FAMOUS PERSONS 



AND 






PLACES. 



BY 



N. PAEKEE WILLIS 



NEW YORK 



CHARLES SCRIBNER, 145 NASSAU STREET. - 



D 



H 



THE LIBRARY 
OF CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 






Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1854, oy 

CHARLES SCREBNER, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
Southern District of New York. 



tobitt's combination-type, 
181 William st. 



PRINTED BY R. CRAIGHEAD 
53 VE8IP.Y Sl'RBST, N. Y 






J**#i J •**' i^>r%,;^^ 



ro z 



U 



9\ QT 



PREFACE. 



For some remarks that should properly introduce much of the con- 
tents of the present volume, the reader is referred to the Preface pub- 
lished with a previous number of the Series, entitled " Pencillings by 
the "Way." A portion of the original " Pencillings " is here given, the 
size of the work having compelled an unequal division of it, and the 
remaining and smaller part serving to complete another volume, with 
some additional sketches of the same character. 

The personal portrayings of distinguished contemporaries, of which 
this volume is mainly composed, will, (as has been abundantly proved 
in their previous shapes of publication,) ensure its readableness. It 
will have a value, from the same quality, that will increase with time, 
and be, also, independent, to a certain degree, of its literary merits. 



vi. PREFACE. 



Sketches of the men of mark of any period are eagerly devoured — 
more eagerly as the subjects pass away, and are beyond farther seeing 
and describing — the public requiring less that they should be ably 
done than that they should be true to the life. Correctness, in such 
pencilling, is more important than grace in the art. And this I claim 
to have been proved for these sketches. In the years that they have 
been before the public, not a single incorrectness has ever been proved 
or even charged upon them. I sketched what I saw at the time, and, 
to the best of my ability, sketched truly. With the acrid and perse- 
vering warfare that has been waged upon them by the critics, their 
truth would have been invalidated long ago, if flaw or blemish in this 
shield of their chief merit could have been found. Expecting vague 
charges of incorrectness from the malice of criticism, however, I have 
accumulated testimonials that have never yet been called forth — no 
friend or acquaintance having ever been estranged or offended by the 
descriptions I have ventured to give, and subsequent intimacy or ex- 
change of courtesies furnishing ample proof, that, to such sharing of my 
admiration and opportunities to see more nearly, the world was 
welcome. 

I will add a few remarks, upon somewhat the same point, from a 
previous Preface : — 

For the living portraitures of the book I have a word to say. That 
sketches of the whim of the hour, its manners, fashions, and those 
ephemeral trifles, which, slight as they are, constitute in a great mea- 
sure its " form and pressure " — that these, and familiar traits of per- 
sons distinguished in our time, are popular and amusing, I have the 
most weighty reasons certainly to know. They sell. " Are they inno- 



PREFACE 



cent ?" i6 the next question. And to this I know no more discreet 
answer than that mine have offended nobody but the critics. It has 
been said that sketches of contemporary society require little talent, 
and belong to an inferior order of literature. Perhaps. Yet they 
must be well done to attract notice at all ; and if true and graphic, 
they are not only excellent material for future biographers, but to all 
who live out of the magic circles of fashion and genius, they are more 
than amusing — they are instructive. To such persons, living authors, 
orators, and statesmen, are as much characters of history, and society 
in cities is as much a subject of philosophic curiosity, as if a century 
had intervened. The critic who finds these matters " stale and unpro- 
fitable," lives in the circles described, and the pictures drawn at his 
elbow lack to his eye the effect of distance ; but the same critic would 
delight in a familiar sketch of a supper with " my lord of Leicester " 
in Elizabeth's time, of an evening with Raleigh and Spenser, or per- 
haps he would be amused with a description by "an eye-witness of Mary 
Queen of Scots, riding home to Holyrood with her train of admiring 
nobles. I have not named in the same sentence the ever-deplored 
blank in our knowledge of Shakspere's person and manners. "What 
would not a trait by the most unskilful hand be worth now — if it 
were nothing but how he gave the good-morrow to Ben Jonson in 
Eastcheap ? 

How far sketches of the living are a breach of courtesy committed 
by the author toward the persons described, depends, of course, on the 
temper in which they are done. To select a subject for complimentary 
description is to pay the most undoubted tribute to celebrity, and, as 
far as I have observed, most distinguished persons sympathize with the 



yiii, PREFACE. 



public interest in them and their belongings, and are willing to have 
their portraits drawn, either with pen or pencil, by as many as offer 
them the compliment. It would be ungracious to the admiring world 
if they were not. 

The outer man is a debtor for the homage paid to the soul which 
inhabits him, and he is bound, like a porter at the gate, to satisfy all 
reasonable curiosity as to the habits of the nobler and invisible tenant. 
He owes his peculiarities to the world. 

* * * * * * * 

For myself, I am free to confess that no age interests me like the 
present; that no pictures of society since the world began, are half 
so entertaining to me as those of English society in our day ; and that, 
whatever comparison the living great men of England may sustain with 
those of other days, there is no doubt in my mind that English social 
life, at the present moment, is at a higher pitch of refinement and cul- 
tivation than it was ever here or elsewhere since the world began — 
consequently it, and all who form and figure in it, are dignified and 
legitimate subjects of curiosity and speculation. The Count Mirabel 
and Lady Bellair of D'Israeli's last romance, are, to my mind, the 
cleverest portraits, as well as the most entertaining characters, of 
modern novel-writing ; and D 'Israeli, by the way, is the only English 
author who seems to have the power of enlarging his horizon, and get- 
ting a perspective view of the times he lives in. His novels are far 
more popular in America than in England, because the Atlantic is to us 
a century. We picture to ourselves England and Victoria as we picture 
to ourselves England and Elizabeth. We relish an anecdote of Sher- 
idan Knowles as we should one of Ford or Marlowe. This immense 



PREFACE. ix. 

ocean between us is like the distance of time ; and while all that is 
minute and bewildering is lost to us, the greater lights of the age and 
the prominent features of society stand out apart, and we judge of them 
like posterity. Much as I have myself lived in England, I have never 
been able to remove this long perspective from between my eye and 
the great men of whom I read and thought on the other side of the 
Atlantic. When I find myself in the same room with the hero of 
Waterloo, my blood creeps as if I had seen Cromwell or Marlborough ; 
and I sit down afterward to describe how he looked, with the eager- 
ness with which I should communicate to my friends some disinterred 
description of these renowned heroes by a contemporary writer. If 
Cornelius Agrippa were redivivus, in short, and would show me his 
magic mirror, I should as soon call up Moore as Dryden — Wordsworth 
or Wilson as soon as Pope or Crichton. 

******* 



CONTENTS 



LETTER I. 

PA OH 

Immensity of London— Voyage to Leith— Society of the Steam Packet— Analogy 
between Scotch and American manners — Strict observance of the Sabbath on 
board— Edinburgh — Unexoected recognition . . . .11 



LETTER n. 

Edinburgh — A Scotch Breakfast — The Castle — Palace of Holyrood— Queen Mary — 

FJzzio— Charles the Tenth ... 17 



LETTER III. 

Dalhousie Castle— The Earl and Countess— Antiquity of their Family . . 23 

LETTER IV. 

Spurting and Its Equipments— Roslin Castle and Chapel • . . SJ8 



CONTEND. 



LETTER V. 

Christopher North "—Mr. Blackwood - The Ettrick Shepherd— Lockhart— Noctes 
Ambrosianae— Wordsworth— Southey — Captain Hamilton and his Book on 
America— Professor Wilson's Family, etc. . . . .34 



LETTER VI. 

Lord Jeffrey and his family— Lord Brougham— Count Flahanlt— Politics— The 
Grey " Ball— Aberdeen — Gordon Castle .... 



LETTER VII. 

Gordon Castle— Company There— The Park— Duke of Gordon— Personal Beauty 

of the English Aristocracy . . . . . .52 



LETTER VIII. 

English Breakfast — Salmon Fishery— Lord Aberdeen— Mr. McLane— Sporting Es- 
tablishment of Gordon Castle ...... 



LETTER IX. 

Scotch Hospitality— Immense Possessions of the Nobility— Dutchess' Infant School 
—Manners of High Life— The Tone of Conversation in England and America 
Contrasted ........ 00 



LETTER X. 

Departure from Gordon Castle — The Pretender — Scotch Character Misapprehended 

—Observance of Sunday— Highland Chieftains . . . .73 



LETTER XI. 

Caledonian Canal— Dogs— English Exclusiveness— English Insensibility of Fine 

Sceivsry— Flora Macdonald and the Pretender— Highland Travelling . 80 



CONTENTS. 



LETTER XII. 

Invamiden— Tarbot— Cockney Tourists— Loch Lomond— Inversnade— Rob Hoy's 

Cave— Discomfiture— The Birthplace of Helen M'Gregor . . .87 



LETTER XIII. 

Highland Hut, its Furniture and Inmates-Highland Amusement and Dinner— 

" Rob Roy," and Scenery of the "Lady of the Lake " . . .94 



LETTER XIV. 

Scottish Stages— Thorough-bred Setter— Scenery— Female Peasantry— Mary, Queen 

of Scots— Stirling Castle . . . . . .101 

LETTER XV. 

Scotch Scenery— A Race— Cheapness of Lodgings in Edinburgh— Aobottsford— 

Scott — Lord Dalhousie— Thomas Moore— Jane Porter— The Grave of Scott . 103 



LETTER XVI. 

Border Scenery— Coachmanship— English Country-seats— Their Exquisite Comfort 
— Old Customs in High Preservation— Pride and Stateliness of the Lancashire 
Gentry — Their Contempt for Parvenues . . . . 118 



LETTER XVII. 

English Cordiality and Hospitality, and the Feelings awakened by it— Liverpool- 
Uncomfortable Coffee-house there— Travelling Americans— New York Packets 
—The Railway- Manchester . . . . . .125 

SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND ...... 132 

EGLiNTON TOURNAMENT . .... 188 



CONTENTS. 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL .... 

The Streets of London .... 

London ... . • • 

London . . . • 

London . . . • • 

London ...... 

Isle of Wight— Ryde .... 

Comparison of the Climate of Europe and America . 
Srratford-on-Avon ..... 

Visit to Stratford-on-Avon — Shakspere 

OhaTlecote ..... 

Warwick Castle . . . . . 

Kenilworth ..... 

A Visit to Dublin about the time of the Queen's Marriage 

Closing Scenes of the Session at Washington . 

The Inauguration ..... 

Washington in the Session .... 

Washington after the Session 

ARTICLES FROM THE JOURNAL. 

LETTERS FROM ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT IN 1845—' 

LETTER I. 



What the Writer has seen of this World for twenty-four clays — Tho Passengers of 
the Britannia — The Difference Between the American and English Custom- 
house Officers— The Working Classes— Female Dress— Bustles— Writing 
against the Doctor's Orders, etc. . . , . . 



PACtB 

21T 



235 
241 
247 
254 
259 
265 
271 
280 
291 
29 
297 
305 
313 
316 
324 



345 



345 



CONTEXTS. 



LETTER II. 



LETTER III. 



London . 

S Vicarage . 

LETTER IV. 
LETTER V. 

LETTER VI. 

■ 
LETTER VII. . 

LETTER VI11. . 
LETTER IX. 
LETTER X, 

LETTER XL 

To any Lady Subscriber who may wish for Gleanings from that first Concert of 
Jenny Lind which the Critics of the Daily Papers have so well harvested 

LETTER XII 

To the Lady-Subscriber in the Country ..... 

LETTER XIII. 

To the Lady-Subscriber in the Country 



854 



362 
364 



374 
378 



392 



399 



. 407 



THE REQUESTED LETTER 

To the Lady-reader in the Country ...... 412 

NATURE CRITICISED BY ART. 

Jenny Lind's Propitiatory Acceptance of one Invitation from New York Fashionable 
Society— The History of the Day of which it was the Evening — Her Martyr- 
dom by Charity-Seekers and other Wanters of Money and Gratifiers of their 
own Impertinent Curiosity— The Criticism of her Manners at the Party, as given 
in the " Courrier des Etas Unis"— A Counter-picture of her Conversation and 
Appearance— Singular Accidental " Tableau Vivant," &c, &c. . 417 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

JENNY I.IND ........ 429 



THE KOSSUTH DAY. 
The Magyar and the Aztec, or the Two Extremes of Human Development 

Near View of Kossuth ...... 

Death or Lady Blessington .... 

Moore and Barry Cornwall .... 

Jane Porter, Authoress of "Scottish Chiefs," "Thaddec 
of Warsaw," etc., etc. ..... 

Ole Bull's Niagara ..... 

Dr. Lardner's Lecture ..... 



433 

443 



4''-3 



4S4 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



LETTER I. 

IMMENSITY OF LONDON VOYAGE TO LEITH SOCIETY OF THE 

STEAM PACKET ANALOGY BETWEEN SCOTCH AND AMERICAN 

MANNERS STRICT OBSERVANCE OF THE SABBATH ON BOARD 

EDINBURGH UNEXPECTED RECOGNITION. 

Almost giddy with the many pleasures and occupations of 
London, I had outstayed the last .fashionable lingerer; and, 
appearing again, after a fortnight's confinement with the epi- 
demic of the season, I found myself almost without an acquain- 
tance, and was driven to follow the world. A preponderance 
of letters and friends determined my route toward Scotland. 

One realizes the immensity of London when he is compelled 
to measure its length on a single errand. 1 took a cab at my 
lodgings at nine in the evening, and drove six miles through 



12 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

one succession of crowded and blazing streets to the East 
India Docks, and with the single misfortune of being robbed, 
on the way, of a valuable cloak, secured a berth in the Monarch 
steamer, bound presently for Edinburgh. 

I found the drawing-room cabin quite crowded, cold supper 
on the two long tables, every body very busy with knife and 
fork, and whiskey-and-water and broad Scotch circulating 
merrily. All the world seemed acquainted, and each man 
talked to his neighbor, and it was as unlike a ship's company 
of dumb English as could easily be conceived. I had dined 
too late to attack the solids, but imitating my neighbor's pota- 
tion of whiskey and hot water, I crowded in between two 
good-humored Scotchmen, and took the happy color of the 
spirits of the company. A small centre-table was occupied by 
a party who afforded considerable amusement. An excessively 
fat old woman, with a tall scraggy daughter and a stubby 
little old fellow, whom they called "pa;" and a singular man, 
a Major Somebody, who seemed showing them up, composed 
the quartette. Noisier women I never saw, nor more hideous. 
They bullied the waiter, were facetious with the steward, and 
talked down all the united buzz of the cabin. Opposite me 
sat a pale, severe-looking Scotchman, who had addressed one 
or two remarks to me ; and, upon an uncommon burst of up- 
roariousness, he laughed with the rest, and remarked that the 
ladies were excusable, for they were doubtless Americans, and 
knew no better. 

" It strikes me," said I, " that both in manners and accent 
they are particularly Scotch." 

" Sir I" said the pale gentleman. 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 13 



" Sir !" said several of my neighbors on the right and left. 

" Have you ever been in Scotland?" asked the pale gentle- 
man, with rather a ferocious air. 

" No, sir ! Have you ever been in America ?" 

" No, sir ! but I have read Mrs. Trollope." 

" And I have read Cyril Thornton ; and the manners delin- 
eated in Mrs. Trollope, I must say, are rather elegant in com- 
parison." 

I particularized the descriptions I alluded to, which will 
occur immediately to those who have read the novel I have 
named ; and then confessing I was an American, and with- 
drawing my illiberal remark, which I had only made to show 
the gentleman the injustice and absurdity of his own, we 
called for another tass of w 7 hiskey, and became very good 
friends. Heaven knows I have no prejudice against the Scotch, 
or any other nation — but it is extraordinary how universal the 
feeling seems to be against America. A half hour incog, in 
any mixed company in England I should think would satisfy 
the most rose-colored doubter on the subject. 

We got under way at eleven o'clock, and the passengers 
turned in. The next morning was Sunday. It was fortu- 
nately of a " Sabbath stillness j" and the open sea through 
which we were driving, with an easy south wind in our favor, 
graciously permitted us to do honor to as substantial a break- 
fast as ever was set before a traveller, even in America. (Why 
we should be ridiculed for our breakfasts I do not know.) 

The " Monarch " is a superb boat, and, with the aid of 
sails and a wind right aft, we made twelve miles in the hour 
easily. I was pleased to see an observance of the Sabbath 



14 FAMOUS PEESONS AND PLACES. 

which had not crossed my path before in three years' travel. 
Half the passengers at least took their Bibles after breakfast, 
and devoted an hour or two evidently to grave religious read- 
ing and reflection. With this exception, I have not seen a 
person with the Bible in his hand, in travelling over half the 
world. 

The weather continued fine, and smooth water tempted us 
up to breakfast again on Monday. The wash-room was full 
of half-clad men, but the week-day manners of the passengers 
were perceptibly gayer. The captain honored us by taking 
the head of the table, which he had not done on the day pre- 
vious, and his appearance was hailed by three general cheers. 
When the meats were removed, a gentleman rose, and, after 
a very long and parliamentary speech, proposed the health 
of the captain. The company stood up, ladies and all, and it 
was drank with a tremendous " hip-hip-hurrah," in bumpers 
of whiskey. They don't do that on the Mississippi, I reckon. 
If they did, the travellers would be down upon us, " I guess," 
out-Hamiltoning Hamilton. 

We rounded St. Abb's head into the Forth, at five, in the 
afternoon, and soon dropped anchor off Leith. The view of 
Edinburgh, from the water, is, I think, second only to that 
of Constantinople. The singular resemblance, in one or two 
features, to the view of Athens, as you approach from the 
Piraeus, seems to have struck other eyes than mine, and an 
imitation Acropolis is commenced on the Calton Hill, and has 
already, in its half finished state, much the effect of the Par- 
thenon. Hymettus is rather loftier than the Pentland-hills, 
and Pentelicus farther off and grander than Arthur's seat, but 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. ]5 



the old castle of Edinburgh is a noble and peculiar feature of 
its own, and soars up against the sky, With its pinnacle-placed 
turrets, superbly magnificent. The Forth has a high shore 
on either side, and, with the island of Inchkeith in its broad 
bosom, it looks more like a lake than an arm of the sea. 

It is odd what strange links of acquaintance will develop 
between people thrown together in the most casual manner, 
and in the most out-of-the-way places. I have never entered a 
steamboat in my life without finding, if not an acquaintance, 
some one who should have been an acquaintance from mutual 
knowledge of friends. I thought, through the first day, that 
the Monarch would be an exception. On the second morning, 
however, a gentleman came up and called me by name. He 
was an American, and had seen me in Boston. Soon after, 
another gentleman addressed, some remark to me, and, in a 
few minutes, we discovered that we were members of the 
same club in London, and bound to the same hospitable roof 
in Scotland. We went on, talking together, and I happened 
to mention having lately been in Greece, when one of a large 
party of ladies, overhearing the remark, turned, and asked me 

if I had met Lady in my travels. I had met her at 

Athens, and this was her sister. I found I had many inter- 
esting particulars of the delightful person in question, which 
were new to them, and, sequitur, a friendship struck up im- 
mediately between me and a party of six. You would have 
never dreamed, to have seen the adieux on the landing, that 
we had been unaware of each other's existence forty-four 
hours previous. 



I6 FAMOUS PERSONS AND TLACES. 

Leith is a mile or more from the town, and we drove into 
the new side of Edinburgh — a splendid city of stone — and, 
with my English friend, I was soon installed in a comfortable 
parlor at Douglass's — an hotel to which the Tremont, in Bos- 
ton, is the only parallel. It is built of the same stone and is 
smaller, but it has a better situation than the Tremont, stand- 
ing in a magnificent square, with a column and statue to Lord 
Melville in the centre, and a perspective of a noble street 
stretching through the city from the opposite side. 

We dined upon grouse, to begin Scotland fairly, and nailed 
down our sherry with a tass of Glenlivet, and then we had 
still an hour of daylight for a ramble. 



LETTER II 



EDINBURGH A SCOTCH BREAKFAST THE CASTLE PALACE OF 

HOLYROOD QUEEN MARY RIZZIO CHARLES THE TENTH. 

It is an old place, Edinboro'. The old town and the new 
are separated by a broad and deep ravine, planted with trees 
and shrubbery; and across this, on a level with the streets on 
cither side, stretches a bridge of a most giddy height, without 
which all communication would apparently be cut off. " Auld 
Reekie" itself looks built on the back-bone of a ridgy crag, and 
towers along on the opposite side of the ravine, running up its 
twelve story houses to the sky in an ascending curve, till it 
terminates in the frowning and battlemented castle, whose 
base is literally on a mountain top in the midst of the city. At 
the foot of this ridge, in the lap of the valley, lies Holyrood- 
bouae ; and between this and the castle runs a single street, 
part of which is the old Canongate. Princes' street, the 

[17] 



18 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



Broadway of the new town, is built along the opposite edge 
of the ravine facing the long, many-windowed walls of the 
Canongate, and from every part of Edinboro' these singular 
features are conspicuously visible. A more striking contrast 
than exists between these two parts of the same city could 
hardly be imagined. On one side a succession of splencli-d 
squares, elegant granite houses, broad and well-paved streets, 
columns, statues, and clean sidewalks, thinly promenaded and 
by the well-dressed exclusively — a kind of wholly grand and 
half-deserted city, which has been built too ambitiously for its 
population — and on the other, an antique wilderness of streets 
and " wynds," so narrow and lofty as to shut out much of the 
light of heaven ; a thronging, busy, and particularly dirty 
population, sidewalks almost impassable from children and 
other respected nuisances ; and altogether, between the irreg- 
ular and massive architecture, and the unintelligible jargon 
agonizing the air about you, a most outlandish and strange 
city. Paris is not more unlike Constantinople than one side 
of Edinboro' is unlike the other. Nature has probably placed 
" a great gulf' 1 between them. 

We toiled up the castle to see the sunset. Oh, but it was 
beautiful ! I have no idea of describing it ; but Edinboro', to 
me, will be a picture seen through an atmosphere of powdered 
gold, mellow as an eve on the Campagna. We looked down 
on the surging sea of architecture below us, and whether it 
was the wavy cloudiness of a myriad of reeking chimneys, or 
whether it was a fancy Glenlivet-born in my eye, the city 
seemed to me like a troop of war-horses, rearing into the air 
with their cmllant riders. The singular boldness of the hills on 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. JQ 



which it is built, and of the crags and mountains which look 
down upon it, and the impressive lift of its towering architec- 
ture into the sky, gave it altogether a look of pride and war- 
likeness that answers peculiarly well to the chivalric history 
of Scotland. And so much for the first look at " Auld 
Keekie." 

My friend had determined to have what he called a " flare- 
up " of a Scotch breakfast, and we were set down, the morn- 
ing after our arrival, at nine, to cold grouse, salmon, cold 
beef, marmalade, jellies, honey, five kinds of bread, oatmeal 
cakes, coffee, tea, and toast ; and I am by no means sure that 
that is all. It is a fine country in which one gets so much by 
the simple order of" breakfast at nine." 

We parted after having achieved it, my companion going 
before me to Dumbartonshire ; and, with a " wee callant" for 
a guide, I took my way to Holyrood. 

At the very foot of Edinboro' stands this most interesting 
of royal palaces — a fine old pile, though at the first view rather 
disappointing. It might have been in the sky, which was dun 
and cold, or it might have been in the melancholy story most 
prominent in its history, but it oppressed me with its gloom 
A rosy cicerone in petticoats stepped out from the porter's 
lodge, and rather brightened my mood with her smile and 
courtesy, and I followed on to the chapel royal, built, Hea- 
ven knows when, but in a beautiful state of gothic ruin. 
The girl went on with her knitting and her well-drilled re- 
citation of the sights upon which those old fretted and stone 
traceries had let in the light; and I walked about feeding 
my eyes upon its hoar and touching beauty, listening little till 



20 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



she came to the high altar, and in the same broad Scotch mo- 
notony, and with her eyes still upon her work, hurried over 
something about Mary Queen of Scots. She was married to 
Darnley on the spot where I stood ! The mechanical guide 
was accustomed evidently to an interruption here, and stood 
still a minute or two to give my surprise the usual grace. 
Poor, poor Mary ! I had the common feeling, and made pro- 
bably the same ejaculation that thousands have made on the 
spot, that I had never before realized the melancholy ro- 
mance of her life half so nearly. It had been the sadness 
of an hour before — a feeling laid aside with the book that 
recorded it — now it was, as it were, a pity and a grief for 
the living, and I felt struck with it as if it had happened 
yesterday. If Eizzio's harp had sounded from her chamber, 
it could not have seemed more tangibly a scene of living story. 

" And through this door they dragged the murdered favor- 
ite ; and here under this stone, he was buried !" 

<< Yes, sir." 

" Poor Eizzio !" 

" I'm thinkin' that's a', sir !" 

It was a broad hint, but I took another turn down the nave 
of the old ruin, and another look at the scene of the murder, 
and the grave of the victim. 

" And this door communicated with Mary's apartments !" 

" Yes — ye hae it a' the noo !" 

I paid my shilling, and exit. 

On inquiry for the private apartments, I was directed to 
another Grirzy, who took me up to a suite of rooms appropri- 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 



21 



ated to the use of the Earl of Breadalbane, and furnished very 
much like lodgings for a guinea a week in London. 

" And which was Queen Mary's chamber?' 1 

" Ech ! sir ! It's t'ither side. I clinna show that." 

" And what am I brought here for?" 

" Ye cam' yoursell !" 

"With this wholesome truth, I paid my shilling again, and 
was handed over to another woman, who took me into a large 
hall containing portraits of Eobert Bruce, Baliol, Macbeth, 
Queen Mary, and some forty other men and women famous 
in Scotch story ; and nothing is clearer than that one patient 
person sat to the painter for the whole. After " doing" these, 
I was led with extreme deliberativeness through a suite of un- 
furnished rooms, twelve, I think, the only interest of which 
was their having been tenanted of late by the royal exile of 
France. As if anybody would give a shilling to see where 
Charles the Tenth slept and breakfasted ! 

I thanked Heaven that I stumbled next upon the right per- 
son, and was introduced into an ill-lighted room, with one deep 
window looking upon the court, and a fireplace like that of a 
country inn — the state chamber of the unfortunate Mary. Here 
was a chair she embroidered — there was a seat of tarnished 
velvet, where she sat in state with Darniey — the very grate in 
the chimney that she had sat before — the mirror in which her 
fairest face had been imaged — the table at which she had 
worked — the walls on which her eyes had rested in her gay 
and her melancholy hours — all, save the touch and mould of 
time, as she lived in it and left it. It was a place for a thou- 
sand thoughts. 



22 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



The woman led on. We entered another room — her cham- 
ber. A small, low bed, with tattered hangings of red and 
figured silk, tall, ill-shapen posts, and altogether a paltry look, 
stood in a room of irregular shape ; and here, in all her peer- 
less beauty, she had slept. A small cabinet, a closet merely, 
opened on the right, and in this she was supping with Rizzio 
when he was plucked from her and murdered. We went back 
to the audience chamber to see the stain of his blood on the 
floor. She partitioned it off after his death, not bearing to 
look upon it. Again — " poor Mary !' ; 

. On the opposite side was a similar closet, which served as 
her dressing room, and the small mirror, scarce larger than 
your hand, which she used at her toilet. Oh for a magic 
wand, to wave back, upon that senseless surface, the visions 
of beauty it has reflected ! 



LETTER III 



DALH0U8IE CASTLE THE EARL AND COUNTESS ANTIQUITY OF 

THEIR FAMILY. 

Edinboro' has extended to " St. Leonard's," and the home 
of Jeanie Deans is now the commencement of the railway ! 
How sadly is romance ridden over by the march of intellect ! 

With twenty-four persons and some climbers behind, I was 
drawn ten miles in the hour by a single horse upon the Dal- 
keith railroad, and landed within a mile of Dalhousie Castle. 
Two " wee callants " here undertook my portmanteau, and in 
ten minutes more I was at the rustic lodge in the park, the 
gate of which swung hospitably open with the welcome an- 
nouncement that I was expected. An avenue of near three 
quarters of a mile of firs, cedars, laburnums, and larches, 
wound through the park to the castle; and dipping over the 
edge of a deep and wild dell, I found the venerable old pile 

[23] 



24 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



below me, its round towers and battlemented turrets frowning 
among the trees, and forming with the river, which swept round 
its base, one of the finest specimens imaginable of the feudal 
picturesque.* The nicely gravelled terraces, as I approached, 
the plate-glass windows and rich curtains, diminished some- 
what of the romance ; but 1 am not free to say that the prom- 
ise they gave of the luxury within did not offer a succedaneum. 

I was met at the threshold by the castle's noble and distin- 
guished master, and as the light modern gothic door swung 
open on its noiseless hinges, I looked up at the rude armorial 
scutcheon above, and at the slits for the portcullis chains and 
the rough hollows in the walls which had served for its rest, 
and it seemed to me that the kind and polished earl, in his vel- 
vet cap, and the modern door on its patent hinges, were pleas- 
ant substitutes even for a raised drawbridge and a helmeted 
knight. I beg pardon of the romantic, if this be treason 
against Delia Crusca. 

The gong had sounded its first summons to dinner, and I 
went immediately to my room to achieve my toilet. I found 
myself in the south wing, with a glorious view up the valley 
of the Esk, and comforts about me such as are only found in 
a private chamber in England. The nicely-fitted carpet, the 
heavy curtains, the well-appointed dressing-table, the patent 
grate and its blazing fire (for where is a fire not welcome in 
Scotland ?) the tapestry, the books, the boundless bed, the bell 
that will ring, and the servants that anticipate the pull oh, 

* " The castle of Dalhousie upon the South-Esk, is a strong and large 
castle, with a large wall of aslure work going round about the same, 
with a tower upon ilk corner thereof." — Grose's Antiquities. 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 2 5 



you should have pined for comfort in France and Italy to 
know what this catalogue is worth. 

After dinner, Lady Dalhousie, who is much of an invalid, 
mounted a small poney to show rne the grounds. We took a 
winding path away from the door, and descended at once into 
the romantic dell over which the castle towers. It is naturally 
a most wild and precipitous glen, through which the rapid Esk 
pursues its way almost in darkness ; but, leaving only the steep 
and rocky shelves leaning over the river with their crowm of 
pines, the successive lords of Dalhousie have cultivated the 
banks and hills around for a park and a paradise. The smooth 
gravel walks cross and interweave, the smoother lawns sink 
and swell with their green bosoms, the stream dashes on mur- 
muring below, and the lofty trees shadow and overhang all. 
At one extremity of the grounds are a flower and a fruit gar- 
den, and beyond it the castle farm ; at the other, a little village 
of the family dependants, with their rose-imbow T ered cottages; 
and, as far as you would ramble in a day, extend the woods 
and glades, and hares leap across your path, and pheasants 
and partridges whirr up as you approach, and you may fatigue 
yourself in a scene that is formed in every feature from the 
eentle-born and the refined. The labor and the taste of sue- 
cessive generations can alone create such an Eden. Primo- 
geniture ! I half forgive thee. 

The various views of the castle from the bottom of the dell 
are perfectly beautiful. With all its internal refinement, it is 
still the warlike fortress at a little distance, and bartizan and 
battlement bring boldly back the days when Bruce was at 
Hawthornden (six miles distant,) and Lord Dalhousie's ances- 
2 



- FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES, 
^o 

tor, the knightly Sir Alexander Kamsay, defended the ford of 
the Esk, and made himself a man in Scottish story in the days 
of Wallace and the Douglasses. Dalhousie was besieged by 
Edward the first, and by John of Gaunt, among others, and 
beino- the nearest of a chain of castles from the Esk to the 
Pentland Hills, it was the scene of some pretty fighting in 
most of the wars of Scotland. 

Lord Dalhousie showed me a singular old bridle-bit, the his- 
tory of which is thus told in Scott's Tales of a Grandfather : 

"Sir Alexander Ramsay having taken by storm the strong castle of 
Roxburgh, the king bestowed on him the office of sheriff of the coun- 
ty, which was before engaged by the knight of Liddesdale. As this 
was placing another person in his room, the knight of Liddesdale alto- 
gether forgot his old friendship for Ramsay, and resolved to put him to 
death. He came suddenly upon him with a strong party of men while 
he was administering justice at Harwick. Ramsay, having no suspi- 
cion of injury from the hands of his old comrade, and having few men 
with him, was easily overpowered ; and, being wounded, was hurried 
away to the lonely castle of the Hermitage, which stands in the middle 
of the morasses of Liddesdale. Here he was thrown into a dungeon 
(with his horse) where he had no other sustenance than some grain 
which fell down from a granary above ; and, after lingering awhile in 
that dreadful condition, the brave Sir Alexander Ramsay died. This 
was in 1412. Nearly four hundred and fifty years afterward, that is, 
about forty years ago, a mason, digging among the ruins of Hermitage 
Castle, broke into a dungeon, where lay a quantity of chaff, some hu- 
man bones and a bridle-bit, which were supposed to mark the vault as 
the place of Ramsay's death. The bridle-bit was given to grandpapa, 
who presented it to the present gallant earl of Dalhousie, a brave sol- 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 



27 



dier, like his ancestor, Sir Alexander Ramsay, from whom he is lineally 
descended." 

There is another singular story connected with the family 
which escaped Sir Walter, and which has never appeared in 
print. Lady Dalhousie is of the ancient family of Coulston, 
one of the ancestors of which, Brown of Coulston, married 
the daughter of the famous Warlock of Gifford, described in 
Marmion. As they were proceeding to the church, the wizard 
lord stopped the bridal procession beneath a pear-tree, and 
plucking one of the pears, he gave it to his daughter, telling 
her that he had no dowry to give her, but that as long as she 
kept that gift, good fortune would never desert her or her de- 
scendants. This was in 1270, and the pear is still preserved 
in a silver box. About two centuries ago, a maiden lady of 
the family chose to try her teeth upon it, and very soon after 
two of the best farms of the estate were lost in some litigation 
— the only misfortune that has befallen the inheritance of the 
Coulstons in six centuries — thanks (perhaps) to the Warlock 
pear I 



LETTER IV. 

SPORTING AND ITS EQUIPMENTS ROSLIN CASTLE AND CHAPEL. 

The nominal attraction of Scotland, particularly at this sea- 
son, is the shooting. Immediately on your arrival, you are 
asked whether you prefer a flint or a percussion lock, and 
(supposing that you do not travel with a gun, which all Eng- 
lishmen do,) a double-barrelled Manton is appropriated to 
your use, the game-keeper fills your powder and shot-pouches, 
and waits with the dogs in a leash till you have done your 
breakfast ; and the ladies leave the table, wishing you a good 
day's sport, all as matters of course. 

I would rather have gone to the library. An aversion to 
walking, except upon smooth flag stones, a poetical tenderness 
on the subject of " putting birds out of misery," as the last 
office is elegantly called, and hands much more at home with 

T28J 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 29 



a goose-quill than a gun, were some of my private objections 
to the "order of the day." Between persuasion and a most 
truant sunshine, I was overruled, however; and, with a silent 
prayer that I might not destroy the hopes of my noble host, 
by shooting his only son, who was to be my companion and 
instructor, I shouldered the proffered Manton and joined the 
game-keeper in the park. 

Lord Ramsay and his man looked at me with some aston- 
ishment as I approached, and I was equally surprised at the 
young nobleman's metamorphosis. From the elegant Oxonian 
I had seen at breakfast, he was transformed to a figure some- 
thing rougher than his highland dependant, in a woollen shoot- 
ing-jacket, that might have been cut in Kentucky, pockets of 
any number and capacity, trousers of the coarsest plaid, hob- 
nailed shoes, and leather gaiters, and a manner of handling his 
gun that would have been respected on the Mississippi. My 
own appearance in high-heeled French boots and other corre 
sponding geer for a tramp over stubble and marsh, amused 
them equally ; but my wardrobe was exclusively metropolitan, 
and there was no alternative. 

The dogs were loosed from their leash and bounded away, 
and crossing the Esk under the castle walls, we found our 
way out of the park, and took to the open fields. A large 
patch of stubble was our first ground, and with a " hie away 1" 
from the gamekeeper, the beautiful setters darted on before, 
their tails busy with delight and their noses to the ground, 
first dividing, each for a wall side, and beating along till they 
met, and then scouring toward the centre, as regularly as if 
every step were guided by human reason. Suddenly they 



30 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



both dropped low into the stubble, and with heads eagerly bent 
forward and the intensest gaze upon a spot, a yard or more in 
advance, stood as motionless as stone. " A covey, my lord !" 
said the game-keeper, and, with our guns cocked, we advanced 
to the dogs, who had crouched, and lay as still, while we passed 
them, as if their lives depended upon our shot. Another 
step, and whirr ! whirr ! a dozen partridges started up from 
the furrow, and while Lord Ramsay cried " Now !" and re- 
served his fire to give me the opportunity, I stood stock still in 
my surprise, and the whole covey disappeared over the wall. 
My friend laughed, the game keeper smiled, and the dogs hied 
on once more. 

I mended my shooting in the course of the morning, but it 
was both exciting and hard work. A heavy shower soaked 
us through, without extracting the slightest notice from my 
companion ; and on we trudged through peas, beans, turnips, 
and corn, mudded to the knees and smoking with moisture, 
excessively to the astonishment, I doubt not, of the produc- 
tions of Monsieur Clerx, of the Rue Vivienne, which were re- 
duced to the consistency of brown paper, and those of my 
London tailor, which were equally entitled to some surprise 
at the use they were put to. It was quite beautiful, however, 
to see the ardor and training of the dogs ; their caution, their 
obedience, and their perfect understanding of every motion of 
their master. I found myself interested quite beyond fatigue, 
and it was only when we jumped the park paling and took it 
once more leisurely down the gravel walks, that I realized at 
what an expense of mud, water, and weariness, my day's sport 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 31 



had been purchased. Mem. Never to come to Scotland again 
without hobnailed shoes and a shooting jacket. 



Eode over to Roslin castle. The country between Dalhou- 
eie castle and Boslin, including the village of Lasswade, is of 
uncommon loveliness. Lasswade itself clings to the two sides 
of a small valley, with its village church buried in trees, and 
the country seat of Lord Melvill looking down upon it, from 
its green woods ; and away over the shoulder of the hill, 
swell the forests and rocks which imbosom Hawthornden (the 
residence of Drummond, the poet, in the days of Ben Jonson,) 
and the Pentland Hills, with their bold outline, form a back- 
ground that completes the picture. 

"We left our horses at the neighboring inn, and walked first 
to Rosim chapel. This little gem of florid architecture is 
scarcely a ruin, so perfect are its arches and pillars, its fretted 
cornices and its painted windows. A whimsical booby under- 
took the cicerone, with a long cane pole to point out the beau- 
ties. We entered the low side door, whose stone threshold 
the feet of Cromwell's church stabled troopers assisted to wear, 
and walked at once to a singular column of twisted marble, 
most curiously carved, standing under the choir. Our friend 
with the cane-pole, who had condescended to familiar Scotch 
on the way, took his distance from the base, and drawing up 
his feet like a soldier on drill, assumed a most extraordinary 



32 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

elevation of voice, and recited its history in a declamation of 
which I could only comprehend the words " Awhraham and 
Isaac." I saw by the direction of the pole that there was a 
bas-relief of the Father of the Faithful, done on the capital— 
but for the rest I was indebted to Lord Ramsay, who did it 
into English as follows : " The master-mason of this chapel, 
meeting with some difficulties in the execution of his design, 
found it necessary to go to Borne for information, during 
which time^his apprentice carried on the work, and even exe- 
cuted some parts concerning which his master had been most 
doubtful; particularly this line fluted- column, ornamented 
with wreaths of foliage and flowers twisting spirally round it. 
The master on his return, stung with envy at this proof of the 
superior abilities of his apprentice, slew him by a blow of his 
hammer." 

The whole interior of the chapel is excessively rich. The 
roof, capitals, key-stones, and architraves, are covered with 
sculptures. On the architrave joining the apprentice's pillar 
to a smaller one, is graved the sententious inscription, " Forte 
est vinuwij fortibr est rex, fortiores sunt mulicres ; super omnia 
vincit Veritas.' 1 '' It has been built about four hundred years, 
and is, I am told, the most perfect thing of its kind in 
Scotland. 

The ruins of Ivoslin castle are a few minutes' walk beyond. 
They stand on a kind of island rock, in the midst of one of the 
wildest glens of Scotland, separated from the hill nearest to 
the base by a drawbridge, swung over a tremendous chasm. 
I have seen nothing so absolutely picturesque in my travels. 
The North Esk runs its dark course, unseen, in the ravine be- 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 33 



low ; the rocks on every side frown down upon it in black 
shadows, the woods are tangled and apparently pathless, and 
were it not for a most undeniable two-story farm house, built 
directly in the court of the old castle, } r ou might convince 
yourself that foot had never approached it since the days of 
"Wallace. 

The fortress was built by William St. Clair, of whom Grose 
writes : " He kept a great court, and was royally served at 
his own table in vessels of gold and silver; Lord Dirleton be- 
ing his master-household ; Lord Borthwick his cup-bearer, 
and Lord Fleming his carver ; in whose absence they had de- 
puties to attend, viz : Stewart, Laird of Drumlanrig; Tweddie, 
Laird of Brumerline, and Sandilands, Laird of Calder. He 
had his halls and other apartments richly adorned with em- 
broidered hangings. He flourished in the reigns of James the 
First and Second. His princess, Elizabeth Douglas, was 
served by seventy-five gentlewomen, whereof fifty-three were 
daughters of noblemen, all clothed in velvets and silks, with 
their chains of gold and other ornaments, and was attended 
by two hundred riding gentlemen in all her journeys ; and, if 
it happened to be dark when she went to Edinburgh, where 
her lodgings were at the foot of the Black Fryar's AVynd, 
eighty torches were carried before her." 

"With a scrambling walk up the glen, which is, as says truly 
Mr. Grose, " inconceivably romantic," we returned to our 
horses, and rode back to our dinner at Dalhousie, delighted 
with Koslin castle, and uncommonly hungry. 



LETTER V 



" christopher north" mr. blackwood the ettrick shep- 
herd lockhart noctes ambrosian.e wordsworth 

southey captain hamilton and his book on america 

professor wilson's family, etc. 

One of my most valued letters to Scotland was an introduc- 
tion to Professor Wilson — the " Christopher North" of Black- 
wood, and the well known poet. The acknowledgment of the 
reception of my note came with an invitation to breakfast the 
following morning, at the early hour of nine. 

The professor's family were at a summer residence in the 

country, and he was alone in his house in Gloucester -place, 

having come to town on the melancholy errand of a visit to 

poor Blackwood — (since dead.) I was punctual to my hour, 

and found the poet standing before the fire with his coat 

skirts expanded— a large, muscular man, something slovenly 

in his dress, but with a manner and face of high good humor, 

T34J 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 

and remarkably frank and prepossessing address. While he 
was finding me a chair, and saying civil things of the noble 
friend who had been the medium of our acquaintance, I was 
trying to reconcile my idea of him, gathered from portraits 
and descriptions, with the person before me. I had imagined 
a thinner and more scholar-like looking man, with a much 
paler face, and a much more polished exterior. His head is 
exceedingly ample, his eye blue and restless, his mouth full of 
character, and his hair, of a very light sandy color, is brushed 
up to cover an incipient baldness, but takes very much its own 
way, and has the wildness of a highlander's. He has the stamp 
upon him of a remarkable man to a degree seldom seen, and 
is, on the whole, fine-looking and certainly a gentleman in his 
appearance; but (I know not whether the impression is com- 
mon) I expected in Christopher North, a finished and rather 
over-refined man of the world of the old school, and I was so 
far disappointed. 

The tea was made, and the breakfast smoked upon the ta- 
ble, but the professor showed no signs of being aware of the 
fact, and talked away famously, getting up and sitting down, 
walking to the window and standing before the fire, and appa- 
rently carried quite away with his own too rapid process of 
thought. He talked of the American poets, praised Percival 
and Pierpont more particularly ; expressed great pleasure at 
the criticisms of his own works that had appeared in the 
American papers and magazines — and still the toast was get- 
ting cold, and with every move he seemed less and less aware 
of the presence of breakfast. There were plates and cups but 
for two, so that he was not waiting for another guest, — and 



35 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

after half an hour had thus elapsed, I began to fear he thought 
he had already breakfasted. If I had wished to have remind- 
ed him of it, however, I should have had no opportunity, for 
the stream of his eloquence ran on without a break ; and elo- 
quence it certainly was. His accent is very broadly Scotch, 
but his words are singularly well chosen, and his illustrations 
more novel and poetical than those of any man I ever con- 
versed with. He spoke of Blackwood, returning to the sub- 
ject repeatedly, and always with a softened tone of voice and 
a more impressive manner, as if his feelings were entirely en 
grossed by the circumstances of his illness. " Poor Black 
wood," he said, setting his hands together and fixing his eyes 
on the wall, as if he were soliloquising with the picture of the 
sick man vividly before him, " there never was a more honest 
creature, or a better friend. I have known him intimately for 
years, and owe him much ; and I could lose no friend that 
would affect me more nearly. There is something quite awful 
in the striking down thus of a familiar companion by your side 
— the passing away — the death — the end forever of a man you 
have been accustomed to meet as surely as the morning or 
evening, and have grown to consider a part of your existence 
almost. To have the share he took in your thoughts thrown 
back upon you — and his aid and counsel and company with 
you no more. His own mind is in a very singular state. He 
knows he is to die, and he has made every preparation in the 
rriflst composed and sensible manner, and if the subject is allu- 
ded to directly, does not even express a hope of recovery ; 
yet, the moment the theme is changed, he talks as if death 
W9r£ as far from him as ever, and looks forward, and mingles 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 37 



himself up in his remarks on the future, as if he were here to 
see this and the other thing completed, and share with you 
the advantages for years to come. What a strange thing it 
is — this balancing between death and life — standing on the 
edge of the grave, and turning, first to look into its approach- 
ing darkness, and then back on the familiar and pleasant 
world, yet with a certain downward progress, and no hope ot 
life, beyond the day over your head !" 

I asked if Blackwood was a man of refined literary taste. 
" Yes," he said. " I would trust his opinion of a book 
sooner than that of any man I know. He might not publish 
everything he approved, for it was his business to print only 
things that would sell ; and, therefore, there are perhaps ma- 
ny authors who would complain of him ; but, if his opinion 
had been against my own, and it had been my own book, I 
should believe he was right and give up my own judgment. 
He was a patron of literature, and it owes him much. He is 
a loss to the world." 

I spoke of the " Nodes." 

He smiled, as you would suppose Christopher North would 
do, with the twinkle proper of genuine hilarity in his eye, 
and said, " Yes, they have been very popular. Many people 
in Scotland believe them to be transcripts of real scenes, and 
wonder how a professor of moral philosophy can descend to 
such carousings, and poor Hogg comes in for his share of 
abuse, for they never doubt he was there and said everything 
that is put down for him." 

" How does the Shepherd take it ?" 

" Very good humoredly, with the exception of one or two 



38 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

occasions, when cockney scribblers have visited him in their 
tours, and tried to flatter him by convincing him he was treat- 
ed disrespectfully. But five minutes' conversation and two 
words of banter restore his good humor, and he is convinced, 
as he ought to be, that he owes half his reputation to the 
Nocteg." 

" What do you think of his Life of Sir Walter, which 
Lockhart has so butchered in Frazer ?" 

". Bid Lockhart write that ?" 

"I was assured so in London." 

" It was a barbarous and unjustifiable attack; and, oddly 
enough, I said so yesterday to Lockhart himself, who was 
here, and he differed from me entirely. Now you mention it, 
I think from his manner he must have written it." 

" Will Hogg forgive him ?" 

" Never ! never ! I do not think he knows yet who has 
done it, but I hear that he is dreadfully exasperated. Lock- 
hart is quite wrong. To attack an old man, with gray hairs, 
like the Shepherd, and accuse him so flatly and unnecessarily 
of lie upon lie — oh, it was not right." 

"Do you think Hogg misrepresented facts willingly?" 

" No, oh no ! he is perfectly honest, no doubt, and quite 
revered Sir Walter. He has an unlucky inaccuracy of mind, 
however ; and his own vanity, which is something quite ridi- 
culous, has given a coloring to his conversations with Scott, 
which puts them in a very false light ; and Sir Walter, who 
was the best natured of men, may have said the things ascrib- 
ed to him in a variety of moods, such as no one can under- 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 39 



stand who does not know what a bore Hogg must sometimes 
have been at Abbottsford. Do you know Lockhart ?" 

u No, I do not". He is almost the only literary man in Lon- 
don I have not met ; and I must say, as the editor of the 
Quarterly, and the most unfair and unprincipled critic of the 
day, I have no wish to know him. I never heard him well 
spoken of. I probably have met a hundred of his acquaint- 
ances, but I have not seen one who pretended to be his friend." 

" Yet there is a great deal of good in Lockhart. I allow 
all you say of his unfairness and severity ; but if he were sit- 
ting there, opposite you, you would find him the mildest and 
most unpresuming of men, and so he appears in private life 
always." 

" Not always. A celebrated foreigner, who had been very 
intimate with him, called one morning to deprecate his severity 
upon Baron D'Haussez's book in a forthcoming review. He 
did his errand in a friendly w T ay, and, on taking his leave, 
Lockhart, with much ceremony, accompanied him down to his 
carriage. ' Pray don't give yourself the trouble to come 
down,' said the polite Frenchman. ' I make a point of doing 
it, sir,' said Lockhart, with a very offensive manner, 'for I un- 
derstand from your friend's book, that we are not considered a 
polite nation in France.' Nothing certainly could be more ill- 
bred and insulting." 

" Still it is not his nature. I do believe that it is merely an 
unhappy talent that he has for sarcasm, with W'hich his heart 
has nothing to do. When he sits down to review a book, he 
never thinks of the author or his feelings. He cuts it up with 
pleasure, because he does it with skill in the w r ay of his pro- 



40 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



fession, as a surgeon dissects a dead body. He would be the 
first to show the man a real kindness if he stood before him. 
I have known Lockhart long. He was in Edinboro' a great! 
while, and when he was writing ' Valerius,' we were in the 
habit of walking out together every morning, and when we 
reached a quiet spot in the country, he read tome the chapters 
as he wrote them. He finished it in three weeks. I heard it; 
all thus by piecemeal as it went on, and had much difficulty ini 
persuading him that it was worth publishing. He wrote it 
very rapidly, and thought nothing of it. We used to sup to- 
gether with Blackwood, and that was the real origin of the 
< Noctes.' " 

" At Ambrose's ?" 

" At Ambrose's." 

" But is there such a tavern, really ?" 

" Oh, certainly. Anybody will show it to you. It is a small 
house, kept in an out-of-the-way corner of the town, by Am- 
brose, who is an excellent fellow in his way, and had a great 
influx of custom in consequence of his celebrity in the Noctes. 
We were there one night very late, and had all been remarka- 
bly gay and agreeable. 'What a pity,' said Lockhart, 'that 
some short hand writer had not been here to take down the 
good things that have been said at this supper.' The next 
day lie produced a paper called ' Noctes Ai7ibrosmn& i - and that 
was the first. I continued them afterward." 

" Have you no idea of publishing them separately ? I think 
a volume or two should be made of the more poetical and 
and critical parts, certainly. Leaving out the politics and the 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 41 

merely local topics of the day, no book could be more agree- 
able." 

II It was one of the things pending when poor Blackwood 
was taken ill. But will you have some breakfast ?" 

The breakfast had been cooling for an hour, and I most 
willingly acceded to his proposition. Without rising, he 
leaned back, with his chair still toward the fire, and seizing the 
tea-pot as if it were a sledge hammer, he poured from one cup 
to the other without interrupting the stream, overrunning both 
cup and saucer, and partly overtlooding the tea-tray. He then 
set the cream toward me with a carelessness which nearly 
overset it, and in trying to reach an egg from the centre of the 
table, broke two. He took no notice of his own awkwardness, 
but drank his cup of tea at a single draught, ate his egg in 
the same expeditious manner, and went on talking of the 
Noctes and Lockhart and Blackwood, as if eating his break- 
fast were rather a troublesome parenthesis in his conversation. 
After a while he digressed to Wordsworth and Southey, and 
asked me if I was going to return by the Lakes. I proposed 
doing so. 

II I will give you letters to both, if you haven't them. I 
lived a long time in that neighborhood, and know Wordsworth 
perhaps as well as any one. Many a day I have walked over 
the hills with him, and listened to his repetition of his own 
poetry, which of course tilled my mind completely at the time, 
and perhaps started the poetical vein in me, though I cannot 
agree with the crities that my poetry is an imitation of 
Wordsworth's." 

"Did Wordsworth repeat any other poetry than his own ?" 



42 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



" Never in a single instance, to my knowledge. He is re- 
markable for the manner in which he is wrapped up in his own 
poetical life. He thinks of nothing else. Everything is done 
with reference to it. He is all and only a poet." 

" Was the story true that was told in the papers of his see- 
ing, for the first time, in a large company some new novel of 
Scott's, in w^hich there was a motto taken from his works ; and 
that he went immediately to the shelf and took down one of 
his own volumes and read the whole poem to the party, who 
were waiting for a reading of the new book ?" 

" Perfectly true. It happened in this very house. "Words- 
worth was very angry at the paragraph, and I believe accused 
me of giving it to the world. I was as much surprised as 
himself, however, to see it in print." 

" What is Southey's manner of life ?" 

" Walter Scott said of him that he lived too much with wo- 
men. He is secluded in the country, and surrounded by a cir- 
cle of admiring friends who glorify every literary project he 
undertakes, and persuade him in spite of his natural modesty, 
that he can do nothing wrong or imperfectly. He has great 
genius and is a most estimable man." 

" Hamilton lives on the Lakes too — does he not ?' 

" Yes. How terrribly he was annoyed by the review of his 
book in the North American. Who wrote it ?" 

" I have not heard positively, but I presume it was Everett. 
I know noboby else in the country who holds such a pen. He 
is the American Junius." 

" It was excessively clever but dreadfully severe, and Ham- 
ilton was frantic about it. I sent it to him myself, and could 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 43 

scarce have done him a more ungracious office. But what a 
strange thing it is that nobody can write a good book on 
America ! The ridiculous part of it seems to me that men of 
common sense go there as travellers, and fill their books with 
scenes such as they may see every day within five minutes' 
walk of their own doors, and call them American. Vulgar 
people are to be found all over the world, and I will match any 
scene in Hamilton or Mrs. Trollope, any day or night here in 
Edinburgh. I have always had an idea that I should be the 
best traveller in America myself. I have been so in the habit 
of associating with people of every class in my own country, 
that I am better fitted to draw the proper distinctions, I think, 
between what is universal over the world or peculiar to 
America." 

" I promise you a hearty welcome, if you should be inclined 
to try." 

" I have thought seriously of it. It is, after all, not more 
than a journey to Switzerland or Italy, of which we think no- 
thing, and my vacation of five months would give me ample 
time, I suppose, to run through the principal cities. I shall do 
it, I think." 

I asked if he had written a poem of any length within the 
last few years. 

" No, though I am always wishing to do it. Many things 
interfere with my poetry. In the first place I am obliged to 
give a lecture once a day for six months, and in the summer it 
is such a delight to be released, and get away into the country 
with my girls and boys, that I never put pen to paper till I am 
driven. Then Blackwood is a great care ; and, greater objec- 



44 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



tion still, I have been discouraged in various ways by criticism. 
It used to gall me to have my poems called imitations of 
Wordsworth and his school ; a thing I could not see myself, 
but which was asserted even by those who praised me, and 
which modesty forbade I should disavow. I really can see no 
resemblance between the Isle of Palms and anything of 
Wordsworth's. I think I have a style of my own, and as my 
ain bam, I think better of it than other people, and so pride 
prevents my writing. Until late years, too, I have been the 
subject of much political abuse, and for that I should not have 
cared if it were not disagreeable to have children and servants 
reading it in the morning papers, and a fear of giving them 
another handle in my poetry, was another inducement for not 
writing." 

I expressed my surprise at what he said, for, as far as I 
knew the periodicals, Wilson had been a singularly continued 
favorite. 

" Yes, out of this immediate sphere, perhaps — but it re- 
quires a strong mind to suffer annoyance at one's lips, and 
comfort oneself with the praise of a distant and outer circle 
of public opinion. I had a family growing up, of sons and 
daughters, who felt for me more than I should have felt for 
myself, and I was annoyed perpetually. Now, these very pa- 
pers praise me, and I really can hardly believe my eyes when 
I open them and find the same type and imprint expressing 
such different opinions. It is absurd to mind such weather- 
cocks ; and, in truth, the only people worth heeding or writing 
for are the quiet readers in the country, who read for pleasure, 
and form sober opinions apart from political or personal preju- 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 45 



dice. I would give more for the praise of one country cler- 
gyman and his family than I would for the admiration of a 
whole city. People in towns require a constant phantasmago- 
ria, to keep up even the remembrance of your name. What 
books and authors, what battles and heroes, are forgotten in a 
day!" 

My letter is getting too long, and I must make it shorter, 
as it is vastly less agreeable than the visit itself. Wilson went 
on to speak of his family, and his eyes kindled with pleasure 
in talking of his children. He invited me to stop and visit 
him at his place near Selkirk, in my way south, and promised 
me that I should see Hogg, who lived not far off. Such induce- 
ment was scarce necessary, and I made a half promise to do 
it and left him, after having passed several hours of the high- 
est pleasure in his fascinating society. 



LETTER VI 



LORD JEFFREY AND HIS FAMILY LORD BROUGHAM COUNT FLA- 

HAULT POLITICS THE " GREY " BALL ABERDEEN GORDON 

CASTLE. 

I was engaged to dine with Lord Jeffrey on the same day 
that I had breakfasted with Wilson, and the opportunity of 
contrasting so closely these two distinguished men, both editors 
of leading Eeviews, yet of different politics, and no less differ- 
ent minds, persons, and manners, was highly gratifying. 

At seven o'clock I drove to Moray place, the Grosvenor- 
square of Edinburgh. I was not sorry to be early, for never 
having seen my host, nor his lady (who, as is well known, is 
an American,) I had some little advantage over the awkward- 
ness of meeting a large party of strangers. After a few min- 
utes' conversation with Mrs. Jeffrey, the door was thrown 
quickly open, and the celebrated editor of the Edinburgh, the 

[46] 



A TKIP TO SCOTLAND. 47 



distinguished lawyer, the humane and learned judge, and the 
wit of the day, par excellence, entered with his daughter. A 
frank, almost merry smile, a perfectly unceremonious, hearty 
manner, and a most playful and graceful style of saying the 
half-apologetic, half-courteous things, incident to a first meet- 
ing after a letter of introduction, put me at once at my ease, 
and established a partiality for him, impromptu, in my feelings. 
Jeffrey is rather below the middle size, slight, rapid in his 
speech and motion, never still, and glances from one subject to 
another, with less abruptness and more quickness than any 
man I had ever seen. His head is small, but compact and 
well-shaped ; and the expression of his face, when serious, is 
that of quick and discriminating earnestness. His voice is ra- 
ther thin, but pleasing ; and if I had met him incidentally, I 
should have described him, I think, as a most witty and well- 
bred gentleman of the school of Wilkes and Sheridan. Per- 
haps as distinguishing a mark as either his wit or his polite- 
ness, is an honest goodness of heart; which, however it makes 
itself apparent, no one could doubt, w ? ho had been with Jeffrey 
ten minutes. 

To my great disappointment, ]\Irs. Jeffrey informed me that 
Lord Brougham, w T ho was their guest at the time, was engaged 
to a dinner, given by the new lord advocate to Earl Grey. I 
had calculated much on seeing two such old friends and fellow- 
wits as Jeffrey and Brougham at the same table, and I could 
well believe what my neighbor told me at dinner, that it was 
more than a common misfortune to have missed it. 

A large dinner-party began to assemble, some distinguished 
men in the law among them, and last of all was announced 



4 g FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

Lady Keith, rather a striking and very fashionable person, 
with her husband, Count Flahault, who, after being Napoleon's 
aid-de-camp at the battle of Waterloo, offered his beauty and 
talents, both very much above the ordinary mark, to the above 
named noble heiress. I have seen few as striking-looking men 
as Count Flahault, and never a foreigner who spoke English 
so absolutely like a native of the country. 

The great " Grey dinner " had been given the day before, 
and politics were the only subject at table. It had been my 
lot to be thrown principally among tories (conservatives is the 
new name,) since my arrival in England, and it was difficult to 
rid myself at once of the impressions of a fortnight just passed 
in the castle of a tory Earl. My sympathies in the "great and 
glorious" occasion were slower than those of the company, 
and much of their enthusiasm seemed to me overstrained. 
Then I had not even dined with the two thousand whigs under 
the pavilion, and as I was incautious enough to confess it, I 
was rallied upon having fallen into bad company, and altoge- 
ther entered less into the spirit of the hour than I could have 
wished. Politics are seldom witty or amusing, and though I 
was charmed with the good sense and occasional eloquence of 
Lord Jeffrey, I was glad to get up stairs after dinner to chasse- 
cafe and the ladies. 

We were all bound to the public ball that evening, and at 
eleven I accompanied my distinguished host to the assembly- 
room. Dancing was going on with great spirit when we en« 
tered; Lord Grev's statesman-like head was bowing industri- 
ously on the platform ; Lady Grey and her daughters sat 
looking on from the same elevated position, and Lord Brough- 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 49 



am's ugliest and shrewdest of human faces, flitted about 
through the crowd, good fellow to everybody, and followed 
b} r all eyes but those of the young. One or two of the Scotch 
nobility were there, but whigism is not popular among les 
hautes volailles, and the ball, though crowded, was but thinly 
sprinkled with "porcelain." I danced till three o'clock, with- 
out finding my partners better or w r orse for their politics, and 
having aggravated a temporary lameness by my exertions, 
went home with a leg like an elephant to repent my abandon- 
ment of tory quiet. 

Two or three days under the hands of the doctor, with the 
society of a Highland crone, of whose ceaseless garrulity over 
my poultices and plasters I could not understand two conse- 
cutive words, fairly finished my patience, and abandoning with 
no little regret a charming land route to the north of Scotland, 
I had myself taken, " this side up," on board the steamer for 
Aberdeen. The loss of a wedding in Perthshire by the way, 
of a week's deer shooting in the forest of Athol, and a week's 
fishing with a noble friend at Kinrara, (long-standing engage- 
ments all,) I lay at the door of the whigs. Add to this Loch 
Leven, Cairn-Gorm, the pass of Killicrankie, other sights lost 
on that side of Scotland, and I paid dearly for " the Grey 
ball." 

We steamed the hundred and twenty miles in twelve hours, 
paying about three dollars for our passage. I mention it for 
the curiosity of a cheap thing in this country. 

I lay at Aberdeen four days, getting out but once, and then 
for a drive to the " Marichal College," the Alma Mater of Du- 
gald Dalgetty. It is a curious and rather picturesque old 
3 



5 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

place, half in ruins, and is about being pulled down. A Scotch 
gentleman, who was a fellow passenger in the steamer, and 
who lived in the town, called on me kindly twice a day, 
brought me books and papers, offered me the use of his car- 
riage, and did everything for my comfort that could have been 
suggested by the warmest friendship. Considering that it was 
a casual acquaintance of a day, it speaks well, certainly, for 
the " Good Samaritanism " of Scotland. 

I took two places in the coach at last (one for my leg,) and 
bowled away seventy miles across the country, with the de> 
lightful speed of these admirable contrivances, for Gordon 
Castle. I arrived at Lochabers, a small town on the estate of 
the Duke of Gordon, at three in the afternoon, and immedi- 
ately took a post-chaise for the castle, the gate of which was 
a stone's throw from the inn. 

The immense iron gate surmounted by the Gordon arms, 
the handsome and spacious stone lodges on either side, the 
canonieally fat porter in white stockings and gay livery, lift- 
ing his hat as he swung open the massive portal, all bespoke 
the entrance to a noble residence. The road within was 
edged with velvet sward, and rolled to the smoothness of a 
terrace walk, the winding avenue lengthened away before, 
with trees of every variety of foliage; light carriages passed 
me driven by ladies or gentlemen bound on their afternoon 
airing ; a groom led up and down two beautiful blood-horses, 
prancing along, with side-saddles and morocco stirrups, and 
keepers with hounds and terriers ; gentlemen on foot, idling 
along the walks, and servants in different liveries, hurrying to 
and fro, betokened a scene of busy gayety before me. I had 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 5l 



hardly noted these various circumstances, before a sudden 
curve in the road brought the castle into view, a vast stone 
pile with castellated wings, and in another moment I was at 
the door, where a dozen lounging and powdered menials were 
waiting on a party of ladies and gentlemen to their several 
carriages. It was the moment for the afternoon drive. 



LETTER VII. 



GORDON CASTLE — COMPANY THERE — THE PARK DUKE OF GORDON 

PERSONAL BEAUTY OF THE ENGLISH ARISTOCRACY. 

The last phaeton dashed away, and my chaise advanced to 
the door. A handsome boy, in a kind of page's dress, imme- 
diately came to the window, addressed me by name, and in- 
formed me that His Grace was out deer-shooting, but that my 
room was prepared, and he was ordered to wait on me. I fol- 
lowed him through a hall lined with statues, deers' horns, and 
armor, and was ushered into a large chamber, looking out on 
a park, extending with its lawns and woods to the edge of tho 
horizon. A more lovely view never feasted human eye. 

" Who is at the castle ?" I asked, as the boy busied himself 
in unstrapping my portmanteau. 

" Oh, a great many, sir." He stopped in his occupation, 
and began counting on his fingers. " There's Lord Aberdeen, 

T521 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 53 



and Lord Claud Hamilton and Lady Llarriette Hamilton^ 
(them's his lordship's two stepchildren, you know, sir,) and 
the Dutchess of Richmond and Lady Sophia Lennox, and La- 
dy Keith, and Lord Mandeville and Lord Aboyne, and Lord 
Stormont and Lady Stormont, and Lord Morton and Lady 
Morton, and Lady Alicia, and — and — and — twenty more, sir." 

" Tw T enty more lords and ladies ?" 

" No, sir ! that's all the nobility." 

" And you can't remember the names of the others ?" 

"No, sir." 

He was a proper page. He could not trouble his memory 
with the names of commoners. 

" And how many sit dowm to dinner?" 

" Above thirty, besides the Duke and Dutchess." 

11 That will do." And off tripped my slender gentleman 
with his laced jacket, giving the fire a terrible stir-up in his 
way out, and turning back to inform me that the dinner hour 
was seven precisely. 

It was a mild, bright afternoon, quite w 7 arm for the end of 
an English September, and with a fire in the room, and a soft 
sunshine pouring in at the windows, a seat by the open case- 
ment was far from disagreeable. I passed the time till the 
sun set, looking out on the park. Hill and valley lay between 
ray eye and the horizon ; sheep fed in picturesque flocks, and 
small fallow deer grazed near them ; the trees were planted, 
and the distant forest shaped by the hand of taste ; and broad 
and beautiful as was the expanse taken in by the eye, it was 
evidently one princely possession. A mile from the castle 
wall, the shaven sward extended in a carpet of velvet softness, 



54 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



♦as bright as emerald, studded by clumps of shrubbery, like 
flowers wrought elegantly on tapestry ; and across it bounded 
occasionally a hare, and the pheasants feel undisturbed near 
the thickets, or a lady with flowing riding-dress and flaunt- 
ing feather, dashed into sight upon her fleet blood-palfrey, and 
w r as lost the next moment in the woods, or a boy put his pony 
to its mettle up the ascent, or a gamekeeper idled into sight 
with his gun in the hollow of his arm, and his hounds at his 
heels — and all this little world of enjoyment and luxury, and 
beauty, lay in the hand of one man, and was created by his 
wealth in these northern wilds of Scotland, a day's journey 
almost from the possession of another human being. I never 
realized so forcibly the splendid result of wealth and primo- 
geniture. 

The sun set in a blaze of fire among the pointed firs crown- 
ing the hills, and by the occasional prance of a horse's feet 
on the gravel, and the roll of rapid wheels, and now and then 
a gay laugh and merry voices, the different parties were re- 
turning to the castle. Soon after a loud gong sounded through 
the gallery, the signal to dress, and I left my musing occupa- 
tion unwillingly to make my toilet for an appearance in a for- 
midable circle of titled aristocrats, not one of whom I had 
ever seen, the Duke himself a stranger to me, except through 
the kind letter of introduction lying upon the table. 

I was sitting by the fire imagining forms and faces for the 
different persons who had been named to me, when there was 
a knock at the door, and a tall, white-haired gentleman, of 
noble physiognomy, but singularly cordial address, entered, 
with the broad red riband of a duke across his breast, and 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 



55 



welcomed me most heartily to the castle. The gong sounded 
at the next moment, and, in our way down, he named over 
his other guests, and prepared me in a measure for the intro- 
ductions which followed. The drawing-room was crowded 
like a soiree. The Dutchess, a very tall and very handsome 
woman, with a smile of the most winning sweetness, received 
me at the door, and I was presented successively to every per- 
son present. Dinner was announced immediately, and the dif- 
ficult question of precedence being sooner settled than I had 
ever seen it before in so large a party, we passed through files 
of servants to the dining room. 

It was a large and very lofty hall, supported at the ends 
by marble columns, within which was stationed a band of 
music, playing delightfully. The walls were lined with full 
length family pictures, from old knights in armor to the 
modern dukes in kilt of the Gordon plaid; and on the side- 
boards stood services of gold plate, the most gorgeously mas- 
sive, and the most beautiful in workmanship I have ever seen. 
There were, among the vases, several large coursing-cups, 
won by the duke's hounds, of exquisite shape and ornament. 

I fell into my place between a gentleman and a very beau- 
tiful woman, of perhaps twenty-two, neither of whose names I 
remembered, though I had but just been introduced. The 
Duke probably anticipated as much, and as I took my seat 
he called out to me, from the top of the table, that I had up- 
on my right, Lady , " the most agreeable woman in 

Scotland." It was unnecessary to say that she was the most 
lovely. 

I have been struck every where in England with the beauty 



56 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

of the higher classes, and as I looked around me upon the 
aristocratic company at the table, I thought I never had 
seen " heaven's image double-stamped as man and noble " so 
unequivocally clear. There were two young men and four 
or five young ladies of rank — and five or six people of more 
decided personal attractions could scarcely be found; the 
style of form and face at the same time being of that cast 
of superiority which goes by the expressive name of " tho- 
roughbred." There is a striking difference in this respect 
between England and • the countries on the continent — the 
paysans of France and the bontadini of Italy being physically 
far superior to their degenerate masters ; while the gentry 
and nobility of England differ from the peasantry in limb and 
feature as the racer differs from the dray-horse, or the grey- 
hound from the cur. The contrast between the manners of 
English and French gentlemen is quite as striking. The cm- 
pressment, the warmth, the shrug and gesture of the Parisian, 
and the working eyebrow, dilating or contracting eye, and 
conspirator-like action of the Italian in the most common con- 
versation, are the antipodes of English high breeding. I should 
say a North American Indian, in his more dignified phase, 
approached nearer to the manner of an English nobleman than 
any other person. The calm repose of person and feature, 
the self-possession under all circumstances, that incapability 
of surprise or dereglement, and that decision about the slight- 
est circumstance, and the apparent -certainty that he is act- 
ing absolutely comme il faut, is equally " gentlemanlike" 
and Indianlike. You cannot astonish an English gentle- 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 57 



man. If a man goes into a fit at his side, or a servant 
drops a dish upon his shoulder, or he hears that the house 
is on fire, he sets down his wine-glass with the same delib- 
eration. He has made up his mind what to do in all pos- 
sible cases, and he does it. He is cold at a first introduction, 
and may bow stiffly, (which he always does) in drinking 
wine with yon, but it is his manner ; and he would think an 
Englishman out of his senses who should bow down to his 
very plate and smile as a Frenchman does on a similar occa- 
sion. Kather chilled by this, you are a little astonished 
when the ladies have left the table, and he closes his chair up 
to you, to receive an invitation to pass a month with him at 
his country house, and to discover that at the very moment he 
bowed so coldly, he was thinking how he should contrive to 
facilitate your plans for getting to him or seeing the country 
to advantage on the way. 

The band ceased playing when the ladies left the table, the 
gentlemen closed up, conversation assumed a merrier cast, 
coffee and chasse-cafe were brought in when the wines began 
to be circulated more slowly; and at eleven, there was a 
general move to the drawing-room. Cards, tea, and music, 
filled up the time till twelve, and then the ladies took their 
departure, and the gentlemen sat down to supper. I got 
to bed somewhere about two o'clock ; and thus ended an 
evening which I had anticipated as stiff and embarrassing, 
but which is marked in my tablets as one of the most social 
and kindly I have had the good fortune to record on my trav- 
els. I have described it, and shall describe others minutely — 
3* 



58 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



and I hope there is no necessity of my reminding any one that 
my apology for thus disclosing scenes of private life has been 
already made. Their interest as sketches by an American ot 
the society that most interests Americans, and the distance at 
which they are published, justify them, I would hope, from 
any charge of indelicacy. 



LETTER VIII. 

ENGLISH BREAKFASTS SALMON FISHERY LORD ABERDEEN MR, 

MC LANE SPORTING ESTABLISHMENT OF GORDON CASTLE. 

I arose late on the first morning after my arrival at Gordon 
Castle, and found the large party already assembled about the 
breakfast table. I was struck on entering with the different 
air of the room. The deep windows, opening out upon the 
park, had the effect of sombre landscapes in oaken frames ; 
the troops of liveried servants, the glitter of plate, the music, 
that had contributed to the splendor of the night before, were 
gone ; the Duke sat laughing at the head of the table, with a 
newspaper in his hand, dressed in a coarse shooting jacket 
and colored cravat ; the Dutchess was in a plain morning- 
dress and cap of the simplest character ; and the high-born 
women about the table, whom I had left glittering with jewels, 
and dressed in all the attractions of fashion, appeared with the 
simplest coiffure and a toilet of studied plainness. The ten or 
twelve noblemen present were engrossed with their letters or 

[59] 



qo FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

newspapers over tea and toast ; and in them, perhaps, the 
transformation was still greater. The soigne man of fashion 
of the night before, faultless in costume and distinguished in 
his appearance, in the full force of the term, was enveloped 
now in a coat of fustian, with a coarse waistcoat of plaid, a 
gingham cravat, and hob-nailed shoes, (for shooting,) and in 
place of the gay hilarity of the supper table, wore a face of 
calm indifference, and ate his breakfast and read the paper in 
a rarely broken silence. I wondered, as I looked about me, 
what would be the impression of many people in my own 
country, could they look in upon that plain party, aware that 
it was composed of the proudest nobility and the highest fash- 
ion of England. 

Breakfast in England is a confidential and unceremonious 
hour, and servants are generally dispensed with. This is to 
me, I confess, an advantage over every other meal. I detest 
eating with twenty tall fellows standing opposite, whose busi- 
ness it is to watch me. The coffee and tea were on the ta- 
ble, with toast, muffins, oat-cakes, marmalade, jellies, fish, and 
all the paraphernalia of a Scotch breakfast ; and on the side- 
board stood cold meats for those who liked them, and they 
w^ere expected to go to it and help themselves. Nothing 
could be more easy, unceremonious, and affable, than the 
whole tone of the meal. One after another rose and fell into 
groups in the windows, or walked up and down the long room 
— and, with one or two others, I joined the Duke at the head 
of the table, who gave us some interesting particulars of the 
salmon fisheries of the Spey. The privilege of fishing the 
river within his lands, is bought of him at the pretty sum of 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. gl 



eight thousand pounds a year ! A salmon was brought in for 
me to see, as of remarkable size, which was not more than half 
the weight of our common American salmon. 

The ladies went off unaccompanied to their walks in the 
park and other avocations, those bound for the covers joined 
the gamekeepers, who were waiting with their dogs in the 
leash at the stables; some paired off to the billiard-room, and 
I was left with Lord Aberdeen in the breakfast room alone. 
The tory ex-minister made many inquiries, with great apparent 
interest, about America. When secretary for foreign affairs, 
in the Wellington cabinet, he had known Mr. McLane inti- 
mately. He said he seldom had been so impressed with a 
man's honesty and straight-forwardness, and never did public 
business with any one with more pleasure. He admired Mr. 
McLane, and hoped he enjoyed his friendship. He wished he 
might return as our minister to England. One such honora- 
ble, uncompromising man, he said, was worth a score of prac- 
tised diplomatists. He spoke of Gallatin and Rush in the 
same nattering manner, but recurred continually to Mr. 
McLane, of whom he could scarcely say enough. His poli- 
tics w r ould naturally lead him to approve of the administration 
of General Jackson, but he seemed to admire the President 
very much as a man. 

Lord Aberdeen has the name of being the proudest and 
coldest aristocrat of England. It is amusing to see the person 
who bears such a character. He is of the middle height, ra- 
ther clumsily made, with an address more of sober dignity 
than of pride or reserve. With a black coat much w 7 orn, and 
always too large for him, a pair of coarse check trousers very 



62 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

ill made, a waistcoat buttoned up to his throat, and a cravat 
of the most primitive neglige, his aristocracy is certainly not 
in his dress. His manners are of absolute simplicity, amount- 
ing almost to want of style. He crosses his hands behind 
him, and balances on his heels; in conversation his voice is 
low and cold, and he seldom smiles. Yet there is a certain 
benignity in his countenance, and an indefinable superiority 
and high breeding in his simple address, that would betray 
his rank after a few minutes' conversation to any shrewd ob- 
server. It is only in his manner toward the ladies of the party 
that he would be immediately distinguishable from men of 
lower rank in society. 

Still suffering from lameness, I declined all invitations to 
the shooting parties, who started across the park, with the 
dogs leaping about them in a phrensy of delight, and accepted 
the Dutchess's kind offer of a pony phaeton to drive down to 
the kennels. The Duke's breed, both of setters and hounds, 
is celebrated throughout the kingdom. They occupy a spa- 
cious building in the centre of a wood, a quadrangle enclosing 
a court, and large enough for a respectable poor-house. The 
chief huntsman and his family, and perhaps a gamekeeper or 
two, lodge on the premises, and the dogs are divided by pa- 
lings across the court. I was rather startled to be introduced 
into the small enclosure with a dozen gigantic blood-hounds, 
as high as my breast, the keeper's whip in my hand the only 
defence. I was not easier for the man's assertion that, with- 
out it, they would " hae the life oot o' me in a crack." They 
came around me very quietly, and one immense fellow, with a 
chest like a horse, and a head of the finest expression, stood 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. ^ 



up and laid his paws on my shoulders, with the deliberation 
of a friend about to favor me with some grave advice. One 
can scarce believe these noble creatures have not reason like 
ourselves. Those slender, thorough-bred heads, large, speak- 
ing eyes, and beautiful limbs and graceful action, should be 
gifted with more than mere animal instinct. The greyhounds 
were the beauties of the kennel-, however. I never had seen 
such perfect creatures. " Dinna tak' pains to caress 'em,. sir," 
said the huntsman, " they'll only be hangit for it !" I asked 
for an explanation, and the man, with an air as if I was un- 
commonly ignorant, told me that a hound was hung the mo- 
ment he betrayed attachment to any one, or in any way 
showed signs of superior sagacity. In coursing the hare, for 
instance, if the dog abandoned the seent to cut across and in- 
tercept the poor animal, he was considered as spoiling the 
sport. Greyhounds are valuable only as they obey their mere 
natural instinct, and if they leave the track of the hare, either 
in their own sagacity, or to follow their master, in intercepting 
it, they spoil the pack, and are hung without mercy. It is an 
object, of course, to preserve them what they usually are, the 
greatest fools as well as the handsomest of the canine species 
— and on the first sign of attachment to their master, their 
death warrant is signed. They are too sensible to live. The 
Dutchess told me afterward that she had the greatest difficul- 
ty in saving the life of the finest hound in the pack, who had 
committed the sin of showing pleasure once or twice when she 
appeared. 

The setters were in the next division, and really they were 
quite lovely. The rare tan and black dog of this race, with 



64 FAMOUS PERSONS AND TLACES. 



his silky, floss hair-, intelligent muzzle, good-humored face and 
caressing fondness (lucky dog! that affection is permitted in 
his family !) quite excited my admiration. There were thirty 
or forty of these, old and young ; and a friend of the Duke's 
would as soon ask him for a church living as for the present 
of one of them. The former would be by much the smaller 
favor. Then there were terriers of four or five breeds, of one 
family of which (long-haired, long-bodied, short-legged, and 
perfectly white little wretches) the keeper seemed particularly 
proud. I evidently sunk in his opinion for not admiring them. 
I passed the remainder of the morning in threading the 
lovely alleys and avenues of the park, miles after miles of gra- 
vel walk, extending away in every direction, with every varie- 
ty of turn and shade, now a deep wood, now a sunny opening 
upon a glade, here along the bank of a stream, and there 
around the borders of a small lagoon, the little ponies flying 
on over the smoothly-rolled paths, and tossing their mimick- 
ing heads, as if they too enjoyed the beauty of the princely 
domain. This, I thought to myself, as I sped on through 
light and shadow, is very like what is called happiness; and 
this (if to be a duke were to enjoy it as I do with this fresh 
feeling of novelty and delight) is a condition of life it is not 
quite irrational to envy. And giving my little steeds the rein, 
I repeated to myself Scott's graphic description, which seems 
written for the park of Gordon castle, and thanked Heaven 
for one more day of unalloyed happiness. 

h And there soft swept in velvet green, , 

The plain with many a glade between 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 65 



" Whose tangled alleys far invade 

The depths of the brown forest shade j 
And the tall fern obscured the lawn. 
Fair shelter for the sportive fawn. 
There, tufted close with copse-wood green, 
Was many a swelling hillock seen, 
And all around was verdure meet 
For pressure of the fairies' feet. 
The glossy valley loved the park, 
The yew tree lent its shadows dark, 
And many an old oak worn and bare, 
With all its shivered boughs was there." 



LETTER IX. 



SCOTCH HOSPITALITY IMMENSE POSSESSIONS OF THE NOBILITY 

DUTCHESS' INFANT SCHOOL MANNERS OF HIGH LIFE THE TONE 

OF CONVERSATION IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA CONTRASTED. 

The aim of Scotch hospitality seems to be, to convince you 
that the house and all that is in it is your own, and you are at 
liberty to enjoy it as if you were, in the French sense of the 
French phrase, chez vous. The routine of Gordon castle was 
what each one chose to make it. Between breakfast and 
lunch the ladies were generally invisible, and the gentlemen 
rode or shot, or played billiards, or kept their rooms. At two 
o'clock, a dish or two of hot game and a profusion of cold 
meats were set on the small tables in the dining room, and 
every body came in for a kind of lounging half-meal, which 
occupied perhaps an hour. Thence all adjourned to the draw- 
ing-room, under the windows of which were drawn up car- 

T661 






A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 67 



riages of all descriptions, with grooms, outriders, footmen, and 
saddle horses for gentlemen and ladies. Parties were then 
made up for driving or riding, and from a pony chaise to a 
phaeton and four, there was no class of vehicle which was not 
at your disposal. In ten minutes the" carriages were usually 
all filled, and away they flew, some to the banks of the Spey 
or the sea-side, some to the drives in the park, and with the 
delightful consciousness that, speed where you would, the ho- 
rizon scarce limited the possession of your host, and you were 
everywhere at home. The ornamental gates flying open at 
your approach, miles distant from the castle ; the herds of red 
deer trooping away from the sound of wheels in the silent 
park ; the stately pheasants feeding tamely in the immense 
preserves ; the hares scarce troubling themselves to get out 
of the length of the whip ; the stalking gamekeepers lifting 
their hats in the dark recesses of the forest — there was some- 
thing in this perpetual reminding of your privileges, which, as 
a novelty, was far from disagreeable. I could not at the time 
bring myself to feel, what perhaps would be more poetical and 
republican, that a ride in the wild and unfenced forest of my 
own country would have been more to my taste. 

The second afternoon of my arrival, I took a seat in the 
carriage with Lord Aberdeen and his daughter, and we fol- 
lowed the Dutchess, who drove herself in a pony-chaise, to 
visit a school on the estate. Attached to a small gothic cha- 
pel, a few minutes' drive from the castle, stood a building in 
the same style, appropriated to the instruction of the children 
of the Duke's tenantry. There were a hundred and thirty 
little creatures, from two years to five or six, and, like alliniant 



68 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



V 



schools in these days of improved education, it was an intei 
esting and affecting sight. The last one I had been in was a rf 
Athens, and though I missed here the dark eyes and Grecia 
faces of the iEgean, I saw health and beauty of a kind whic 
stirred up more images of home, and promised, perhaps, mor 
for the future. They went through their evolutions, and an 
swered their questions, with an intelligence and cheerfulnesfc 
that were quite delightful, and I was sorry to leave them ever, $ 
for a drive in the loveliest sun-set of a lingering day of 
summer. 

People in Europe are more curious about the comparisor 
of the natural productions of America with those of England 
than about our social and political differences. A man who 
does not care to know whether the president has destroyed 
the bank, or the bank the president, or whether Mrs. Trol- 
lope has flattered the Americans or not, will be very much in-i 
terested to know if the pine tree in his park is comparable tos 
the same tree in America, if the same cattle are found there, 
or the woods stocked with the same game as his own. I 
would recommend a little study of trees particularly, and of 
vegetation generally, as valuable knowledge for an American 
coming abroad. I think there is nothing on which I have 
been so often questioned. The Dutchess led the way to a 
plantation of American trees, at some distance from the cas- 
tle, and stopping beneath some really noble firs, asked if our 
forest trees were often larger, with an air as if she believed 
they were not. They were shrubs, however, compared to the 
gigantic productions of the West. Whatever else we may 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 



69 



ee abroad, we must return home to find the magnificence 
)f nature. 

The number at the dinner table of Gordon castle was sel- 
lom less than thirty, but the company was continually varied 
>y departures and arrivals. No sensation was made by either 
»ne or the other. A travelling carriage dashed up to the 
loor, was disburdened of its load, and drove round to the 
'tables, and the question was seldom asked, "Who is arri- 
ved ?" You were sure to see at dinner — and an addition 
•f half a dozen to the party made "no perceptible difference in 
nything. Leave-takings were managed in the same quiet 
yay. Adieus were made to the Duke and Dutchess, and to 
o one else, except he happened to encounter the parting 
;uest upon the staircase, or were more than a common ac- 
uaintance. In short, in every way the gene of life seemed 
/eeded out, and if unhappiness or ennui found its way into 
ae castle, it was introduced in the sufferer's own bosom. For 
le, I gave myself up to enjoyment with an abandon I could 
ot resist. With kindness and courtesy in every look, the 
ixuries and comforts of a regal establishment at my freest 
isposal ; solitude when I pleased, company when I pleased, 
he whole visible horizon fenced in for the enjoyment of a 
ousehold, of which I was a temporary portion, and no enemy 
xcept time and the gout, I felt as if I had been spirited into 
ome castle of felicity, and had not come by the royal mail- 
oach at all. 

The great spell of high life in this country seems to be re- 
oose. All violent sensations are avoided as out of taste. In 
onversation, nothing is so " odd" (a word, by the way, that 



70 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

in England means everything disagreeable) as emphasis oi 
startling epithet, or gesture, and in common intercourse no 
thins: so. vulgar as any approach to "a scene." The high 
bred Englishman studies to express himself in the plaines 
words that will convey his meaning, and is just as simple anc 
calm in describing the death of his friend, and just as techni 
cal, so to speak, as in discussing the weather. Eor all extra 
ordinary admiration the word " capital" suffices ; for all ordi 
nary praise the word " nice !" for all condemnation in morals 
manners, or religion, the word "odd!" To express yourself 
out of this simple vocabulary is to raise the eyebrows of th< 
whole company at once, and stamp yourself under-bred, or : 
foreigner. 

This sounds ridiculous, but it is the exponent not only oi 
good breeding, but of the true philosophy of social life. Th 
general happiness of a party consists in giving every individua 
an equal chance, and in wounding no one's self-love. What i 
called an " overpowering person," is immediately shunned, fo 
he talks too much, and excites too much attention. In an; 
other country he would be called " amusing." He is consic 
ered here as a mere monopolizer of the general interest— 
and his laurels, talk he never so well, shadow the rest ol 
the company. You meet your most intimate friend in soci 
ty after a long separation, and he gives you his hand as i: 
you had parted at breakfast. If he had expressed all h 
felt, it would have been " a scene," and the repose of th 
company would have been disturbed. You invite a cleve 
man to dine with you, and he enriches, his descriptions wit 
new epithets and original words. He is offensive. Pie eclipse 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 7 j 



the language of your other guests, and is out of keeping 
with the received and subdued tone to which the most com- 
mon intellect rises with ease. Society on this footing is de- 
lightful to all, and the diffident man, or the dull man, or the 
quiet man, enjoys it as much as another. For violent sensa- 
tions you must go elsewhere. Your escape-valve is not at 
your neighbor's ear. 

There is a great advantage in this in another respect. Your 
tongue never gets you into mischief. The " unsafeness of 
Americans " in society (I quote a phrase I have heard used a 
thousand times) arises wholly from the American habit of 
applying high-wrought language to trifles. I can tell one 
of my countrymen abroad by his first remark. Ten to one 
his first sentence contains a superlative that would make an 
Englishman imagine he had lost his senses. The natural con- 
sequence is continual misapprehension, offence is given where 
none was intended, words that have no meaning are the 
ground of quarrel, and gentlemen are shy of us. A good- 
natured young nobleman, whom I sat next to at dinner on 
my first arrival at Gordon castle, told me he was hunting with 
Lord Abercorn when two very gentleman-like young men 
rode up and requested leave to follow the hounds, but in such 
extraordinary language that they were not at first understood. 
The hunt continued for some days, and at last the strangers, 
who rode well, and were seen continually, w T ere invited to 
dine with the principal nobleman of the neighborhood. They 
turned out to be Americans, and were every way well bred 
and agreeable, but their extraordinary mode of expressing 
themselves kept the company in continual astonishment. They 



72 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



were treated with politeness, of course, while they remained, 
but no little fun was made of their phraseology after their de- 
parture, and the impression on the mind of my informant was 
very much against the purity of the English language, as 
spoken by the Americans. I mention it for the benefit of 
those whom it may concern. 



LETTER X 



DEPARTURE FROM GORDON CASTLE THE PRETENDER SCOTCH 

CHARACTER MISAPPREHENDED OBSERVANCE OF SUNDAY HIGH- 
LAND CHIEFTAINS. 

The days had gone by like the " Days of Thalaba," and I 
took my leave of Gordon castle. It seemed to me, as I 
looked back upon it, as if I had passed a separate life there — 
so beautiful had been every object on which I had looked in 
that time, and so free from every mixture of ennui had been 
the hours from the first to the last, I have set them apart in 
my memory, those days, as a bright ellipse in the usual pro- 
cession of joys and sorrows. It is a little world, walled in 
from rudeness and vexation, in which I have lived a life. 

I took the coach from Elgin, and visited the fine old ruins 
of the cathedral, and then kept on to Inverness, passing over 

4 L73] 



?4 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

the " Blasted Heath," the tryst of Macbeth and the witches. 
We passed within sight of Culloden Moor, at sunset, and the 
driver pointed out to me a lonely castle where the Pretender 
slept the night before the battle. The interest with which I 
had read the romantic history of Prince Charlie, in my boy- 
hood, was fully awakened, for his name is still a watch-word 
of aristocracy in Scotland; and the Jacobite songs, with their 
half-warlike, half-melancholy music, were favorites of the 
Dutchess of Gordon, who sung them in their original Scotch, 
with an enthusiasm and sweetness that stirred my blood like 
the sound of a trumpet. There certainly never was a cause 
so indebted to music and poetry as that which was lost at 
Culloden. 

The hotel at Inverness was crowded with livery servants, 
and the door inaccessible for carriages. I had arrived on the 
last day of a county meeting, and all the chieftains and lairds 
of the north and west of Scotland were together. The last 
ball was to be given that evening, and I was strongly tempted 
to go, by four or five acquaintances whom I found in the hotel 
— but the gout was peremptory. My shoe would not go on, 
and I went to bed. 

I was limping about in the morning with a kind old baronet 
whom I had met at Gordon Castle, when I was warmly accost- 
ed by a gentleman whom I did not immediately remember. 
On his reminding me that we had parted last on Lake Leman, 
however, I recollected a gentlemanlike Scotchman, who had 
offered me his glass opposite Copet to look at the house of 
Madame de Stael, and whom I had left afterward at Lau- 
sanne, without even knowing his name. He invited me imme- 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 75 



diately to dine, and in about an hour or two after, called in 
his carriage, and drove me to a charming country house, a few- 
miles down the shore of Loch Ness, where he presented me 
to his family, and treated me in every respect as if I had been 
the oldest of his friends. I mention the circumstance for the 
sake of a comment on what seems to me a universal error with 
regard to the Scotch character. Instead of a calculating and 
cold people, as they are always described by the English, they 
seem to me more a nation of impulse and warm feeling than 
any other I have seen. Their history certainly goes to prove 
a most chivalrous character in days gone by, and as far as I 
know Scotchmen, they preserve it still with even less of the 
modification of the times than any other nations. The instance 
I have mentioned above, is one of many that have come under 
my own observation, and in many inquiries since, I have never 
found an Englishman, who had been in Scotland, who did not 
confirm my impression. I have not traded with them, it is 
true, and I have seen only the wealthier class, but still I think 
my judment a fair one. The Scotch in England are, in a man- 
ner, what the Yankees are in the Southern States, and their 
advantages of superior quickness and education have given 
them a success which is ascribed to meaner causes. I think 
(common prejudice contradicente) that neither the Scotch nor 
the English are a cold or an unfriendly people, but the Scotch 
certainly the farther remove from coldness of the two. 

Inverness is the only place I have ever been in where no 
medicine could be procured on a Sunday. I did not want in- 
deed for other mementoes of the sacredness of the day. In 
the crowd of the public room of the hotel, half the persona at 



76 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



least, had either bible or prayer-book, and there was a hush 
through the house, and a gravity in the faces of the people 
passing in the street, that reminded me more of New England 
than anything I have seen. I had wanted some linen washed 
on Saturday. " Impossible I" said the waiter, " no one does 
up linen on Sunday." Toward evening I wished for a car- 
riage to drive over to my hospitable friend. Mine host stared, 
and I found it was indecorous to drive out on Sunday. I must 
add, however, that the apothecary's shop was opened after 
the second service, and that I was allowed a carriage on plead- 
ing my lameness. 

Inverness is a romantic looking town, charmingly situated 
between Loch Ness and the Murray Firth, with the bright 
river Ness running through it, parallel to its principal street, 
and the most picturesque eminences in its neighborhood. 
There is a very singular elevation on the other side of the 
Ness, shaped like a ship, keel up, and rising from the centre 
of the plain, covered with beautiful trees. It is called, in 
Gaelic, Tonnaheuric, or the Hill of the Fairies. 

It has been in one respect like getting abroad again, to come 
to Scotland. Nothing seemed more odd to me on my first 
arrival in England, than having suddenly ceased to be a " fo- 
reigner." I was as little at home myself, as in France or 
Turkey, (much less than in Italy,) yet there was that in the 
manner of every person who approached me which conveyed 
the presumption that I was as familiar with every thing about 
me as himself. In Scotland, however, the Englishman is the 
" Sassenach," and a stranger ; and, as I was always taken 
for one, I found myself once more invested with that agreed 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 77 



ble consequence which accompanies it, my supposed prejudi- 
ces consulted, my opinion about another country asked, and 
comparisons referred to me as an exparte judge. I found 
here, as abroad, too, that the Englishman was expected to pay 
more for trifling services than a native, and that he would be 
much more difficult about his accommodations, and more par- 
ticular in his chance company. I was amused at the hotel 
with an instance of the want of honor shown " the prophet in 
his own country." I went down to the coffee room for my 
breakfast about noon, and found a remarkably fashionable, 
pale, " "Werter-like man," excessively dressed, but with all the 
air of a gentleman, sitting with a newspaper on one side of 
the fire. He offered me the newspaper after a few minutes, 
but with the cold, half-supercilious politeness which marks the 
dandy tribe, and strolled off to the window. The landlord, 
entered presently, and asked me if I had any objection to 
breakfasting with that gentleman, as it would be a convenience 
in serving it up. " None in the world," I said, " but you had 
better ask the other gentleman first." " Hoot I" said Boni- 
face, throwing up his chin with an incredulous expression, — 
" it's honor for the like o' him. He's joost a laddie born and 
brought up i- the toon. I kenn'd him week" And so enter 
breakfast for two. I found my companion a well-bred man; 
rather surprised, however, if not vexed, to discover that I 
knew he was of Inverness. He had been in the civil services 
of the East India Company for some years (hence his pale- 
ness,) and had returned to Scotland for his health. He was 
not the least aware that he was known, apparently and he 
certainly had not the slightest trace of his Scotch birth. The 



7 g FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

landlord told me afterward that his parents were poor, and he 
had raised himself by his own cleverness alone, and yet it was 
" honor for the like o' him" to sit at table with a common 
stranger ! The world is really very much the same all over. 

In the three days I passed at Inverness, I made the ac- 
quaintance of several of the warmhearted Highland chiefs, 
and found great difficulty in refusing to go home with them. 
One of the " Lords of the Isles " was among the number — a 
handsome, high-spirited youth, who would have been the chi- 
valrous Lord Konald of a century ago, but was now only the 
best shot, the best rider, the most elegant man, and the most 
" capital fellow " in the w T est of Scotland. He had lost every 
thing but his " Isle " in his London campaigns, and was be- 
ginning to look out for a wife to mend his fortune and his mo- 
rals. There was a peculiar style about all these young men, 
something very like the manner of our high bred Virginians — 
a free, gallant, self-possessed bearing, fiery and prompt, yet 
full of courtesy. I was pleased with them altogether. 

I had formed an agreeable acquaintance, on my passage 
from London to Edinburgh in the steamer, with a gentleman 
bound to the Highlands for the shooting season. He was en- 
gaged to pay a visit to Lord Lumley, with whom I had my- 
self promised to pass a week, and we parted at Edinboro' in 
the hope of meeting at Kinrara. On my return from Dalhou- 
sie, a fortnight after, we met by chance at the hotel in Edin- 
boro', he having arrived the same day, and having taken a 
passage like myself for Aberdeen. We made another agree- 
able passage together, and he left me at the gate of Gordon 
castle, proceeding north on another visit. I was sitting in the 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 79 

coffee room at Inverness, pondering how I should reach Kin- 
rara, when, enter again my friend, to my great surprise, who 
informed me that Lord Lumley had returned to England. 
Disappointed alike in our visit, we took a passage together 
once more in the steamer from Inverness to Fort William for 
the following morning. It was a singular train of coinciden- 
ces, but I was indebted to it for one of the most agreeable 
chance acquaintances I have yet made. 



LETTER XI 



CALEDONIAN CANAL DOGS ENGLISH EXCLUSIVENESS — ENGLISH 

INSENSIBILITY OF FINE SCENERY FLORA MACDONALD AND THE 

PRETENDER HIGHLAND TRAVELLING. 

"We embarked early in the morning in the steamer which 
goes across Scotland from sea to sea, by the half-natural, half- 
artificial passage of the Caledonian canal. One long glen, as 
the reader knows, extends quite through this mountainous 
country, and in its bosom lies a chain of the loveliest lakes, 
whose extremities so nearly meet, that it seems as if a blow 
of a spade should have run them together. Their different 
elevations, however, made it an expensive work in the locks, 
and the canal altogether cost ten times the original calcu- 
lation. 

[80] 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 



81 



I went on board with my London friend, who, from our 
meeting so frequently, had now become my constant com- 
panion. The boat was crowded, yet more with dogs than 
people; for every man, I think, had his brace of terriers or his 
pointers, and every lady her hound or poodle, and they were 
chained to every leg of a sofa, chair, portmanteau, and fixture 
in the vessel. It was like a floating kennel, and every pas- 
senger was fully occupied in keeping the peace between his 
own dog and his neighbor's. The same thing would have 
been a much greater annoyance in any other country ; but in 
Scotland the dogs are all of beautiful and thorough-bred races, 
and it is a pleasure to see them. Half as many French pugs 
would have been insufferable. 

We opened into Loch Ness immediately, and the scenery 

was superb. The waters were like a mirror ; and the hills 

draped in mist, and rising one or two thousand feet directly 

from the shore, and nothing to break the wildness of the crags 

but the ruins of the constantly occurring castles, perched like 

eyries upon their summits. You might have had the same 

natural scenery in America, but the ruins and the thousand 

associations would have been wanting ; and it is this, much 

more than the mere beauty of hill and lake, which makes the 

pleasure of travel. We ran close in to a green cleft in the 

mountains on the southern shore, in which stands one of the 

few old castles, still inhabited by the chief of his clan — 

that of Fraser of Lovat, so well known in Scottish story. Our 

object was to visit the Fall of Foyers, in sight of which it 

stands, and the boat came off to the point, and gave us an 

hour for the excursion. It was a pretty stroll up through the 
4* 



g2 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

woods, and we found a cascade very like the Turtmann in 
Switzerland, but with no remarkable feature which would 
make it interesting in description. 

I was amused after breakfast with what has always struck 
me on board English steamers — the gradual division of the 
company into parties of congenial rank or consequence. Not 
for conversation — for fellow travellers of a day seldom be- 
come acquainted — but, as if it w 7 as a process of crystallization, 
the well-bred and the half-bred, and the vulgar, each separat- 
ing to his natural neighbor, apparently from a mere fitness of 
propinquity. This takes place sometimes, but rarely and in 
a much less degree, on board an American steamer. There 
are, of course, in England, as with us, those who are presu- 
ming and impertinent, but an instance of it has seldom fallen 
under my observation. The English seem to have an instinct 
of each other's position in life. A gentleman enters a crowd, 
looks about him, makes up his mind at once from whom an 
advance of civility would be agreeable or the contrary, gets 
near the best set without seeming to notice them, and if any 
chance accident brings on conversation with his neighbor, you 
may be certain he is sure of his man. 

We had about a hundred persons on board, (Miss Invera- 
rity, the singer, among others,) and I could see no one who 
seemed to notice or enjoy the lovely scenery we were passing 
through. I made the remark to my companion, who was an 
old stager in London fashion, fifty, but still a beau, and he 
was compelled to allow it, though piqued for the taste of his 
countrymen. A baronet with his wife and sister sat in the 
corner opposite us, and neither saw a feature of the scenery 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 83 



except by an accidental glance in changing her position. Yet 
it was more beautiful than most things I have seen that are 
celebrated, and the ladies, as my friend said, looked like " nice 
persons. " 

I had taken up a book while we were passing the locks at 
the junction of Loch Ness and Loch Oich, and was reading 
aloud to my friend the interesting description of Flora Mac- 
donald's heroic devotion to Prince Charles Edward. A very 
lady-like girl, who sat next me, turned around as I laid down 
the book, and informed me, with a look of pleased pride, that 
the heroine was her grandmother. She was returning from 
the first visit she had ever made to the Isle (I think of Skye,) 
of which the Macdonalds were the hereditary lords, and in 
which the fugitive prince was concealed. Her brother, an 
officer, just returned from India, had accompanied her in her 
pilgrimage, and as he sat on the other side of his sister he 
joined in the conversation, and entered into the details of 
Flora's history with great enthusiasm. The book belonged to 
the boat, and my friend had brought it from below, and the 
coincidence was certainly singular. The present chief of the 
Macdonalds was on board, accompanying his relatives back 
to their home in Sussex ; and on arriving at Fort William, 
where the boat stopped for the night, the young lady invited 
us to take tea with her at the inn ; and for so improvised an 
acquaintance, I have rarely made three friends more to my 
taste. 

We had decided to leave the steamer at Fort William, and 
cross through the heart of Scotland to Loch Lomond. My 
companion was very fond of London hours, and slept late. 



g 4 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

knowing that the cart — the only conveyance to be had in that 
country— would wait our time. I was lounging about the 
inn, and amusing myself with listening to the Gaelic spoken i 
by everybody who belonged to the place, when the pleasant, 
family with whom we had passed the evening, drove out of the 
yard, (having brought their horses down in the boat,) intend- 
ing to proceed by land to Glasgow. We renewed our adieus, 
on my part with the sincerest regret, and I strolled down the 
road and watched them till they were out of sight, feeling that 
(selfish world as it is,) there are some things that look at least ; 
like impulse and kindness — so like, that I can make out of 
them a very passable happiness. 

We mounted our cart at eleven o'clock, and with a bright 
sun, a clear, vital air, a handsome and good-humored callant 
for a driver, and the most renowned of Scottish scenery before 
us, the day looked very auspicious. I could not help smiling 
at the appearance of my fashionable friend sitting, with his 
w T ellpoised hat and nicely-adjusted curls, upon the springless 
cross-board of a most undisguised and unscrupulous market- 
cart, yet in the highest good humor with himself and the 
world, The boy sat on the shafts, and talked Gaelic to his 
horse; the mountains and the lake, spread out before us, 
looked as if human eye had never profaned their solitary 
beauty, and I enjoyed it all the more, perhaps, that our con- 
versation was of London and its delights; and the racy scan- 
dal of the distinguished people of that great Babel amused 
me in the midst of that which is most unlike it — pure and love- 
ly nature. Everything is seen so much better by contrast ! 

We crossed the head of Loch Linnhe, and kept down its 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 



85 



eastern bank, skirting the water by a winding road directly 
under the wall of the mountains. We were to dine at Bally- 
hulish, and just before reaching it we passed the opening of a 
glen on the opposite side of the lake, in which lay, in a green 
paradise shut in by the loftiest rocks, one of the most enviable 
habitations I have ever seen. I found on inquiry that it was 
the house of a Highland chief, to whom Lord Dalhousie had 
kindly given me a letter, but my lameness and the presence of 
my companion induced me to abandon the visit ; and, hailing 
a fishing-boat, I dispatched my letters, which were sealed, 
across the loch, and we kept on to the inn. We dined here; 
and I just mention, for the information of scenery-hunters, 
that the mountain opposite Ballyhulish sweeps down to the 
lake with a curve which is even more exquisitely graceful than 
that of Vesuvius in its^ far-famed descent to Portici. That 
same inn of Ballyhulish, by the way, stands in the midst of a 
scene, altogether, that does not pass easily from the memory — 
a lonely and serene spot that would recur to one in a moment 
of violent love or hate, when the heart shrinks from the inter- 
course and observation of men. 

We found the travellers' book, at the inn, full of records 
of admiration, expressed in all degrees of doggerel. People 
on the road write very bad poetry. I found the names of one 
or two Americans, whom I knew, and it was a pleasure to 
feel that my enjoyment would be sympathized in. Our host 
had been a nobleman's travelling valet, and he amused us with 
his descriptions of our friends, every one of whom he perfect- 
ly remembered. He had learned to use his eyes, at least, and 
had made very shrewd guesses at the condition and tempers 



8(3 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



of his visiters. His life, in that lonely inn, must be in suffi- 
cient contrast with his former vocation. 

We ha'd jolted sixteen miles behind our Highland horse, 
but became out fresh for the remaining twenty of our day's 
journey, and with cushions of dried and fragrant fern, gather- 
ed and put in by our considerate landlord, we crossed the 
ferry and turned eastward into the far-famed and much 
boasted valley of G-lencoe. The description of it must lie over 
till my next letter. 



LETTER X I I 



INVARERDEN TARBOT COCKNEY TOURISTS LOCH LOMOND IN- 

VERSNADE ROB ROy's CAVE DISCOMFITURE THE BIRTHPLACE 

OF HELEN M'GREGOR. 

We passed the head of the valley near Tyndrum, where 
M'Dougal of Lorn defeated the Bruce, and were half way up 
the wild pass that makes its southern outlet, when our High- 
land driver, with a shout of delight, pointed out to us a red 
deer, standing on the very summit of the highest mountain 
above us. It was an incredible distance to see any living 
thing, but he stood clear against the sky, in a relief as strong 
as if he had been suspended in the air, and with his head up, 
and his chest toward us, seemed the true monarch of the wild. 

At Invarenden, Donald M'Phee begged for the discharge 

f87] 



88 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



of himself and his horse and cart from our service. He had 
come with us eighty miles, and was afraid to venture farther 
on his travels, having never before been twenty miles from 
the Highland village where he lived. It was amusing to see 
the auriosity with which he looked about him, and the caution 
with which he suffered the hostler at the inn to take the black 
mare out of his sight. The responsibility of the horse and 
cart weighed heavily on his mind, and he expressed his hope 
to " get her back safe," with an apprehensive resolution that 
would have become a knight-errant guiding himself for his 
most perilous encounter. Poor Donald ! how little he knew 
how wide is the w T orld, and how very like one part of it is to 
another ! 

Our host of Invarerden supplied us with another cart to 
take us down to Tarbot, and having dined with a waterfall- 
looking inn^at each of our two opposite windows, (the inn 
stands in a valley between two mountains,) we were com- 
mitted to the care of his eldest boy, and jolted off for the head 
of Loch Lomond. 

I have never happened to see a traveller who had seen Loch 
Lomond in perfectly good weather. My companion had been 
there every summer for several years, and believed it always 
rained under Ben Lomond. As we came in sight of the lake, 
however, the water looked like one sheet of gold leaf, trem- 
bling, as if by the motion of fish below, but unruffled by wind ; 
and if paradise were made so fair, and had such waters in its 
midst, I could better conceive than before, the unhappiness 
of Adam when driven forth. The sun was just setting, and 
th* w.cr! descended immediately to the shore, and kenfc oir>-~~ 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 



89 



under precipitous rocks, and slopes of alternate cultivation 
and heather, to the place of our destination. And a lovely 
place it is ! Send me to Tarbot when I would retreat from 
the world. It is an inn buried in a grove at the foot of the 
hills, and set in a bend of the lake shore, like a diamond upon 
an " orbed brow ;" and the light in its kitchen, as we ap- 
proached in the twilight, was as interesting as a ray of the 
" first water " from the same. We had now reached the 
route of the cockney tourists, and while we perceived it agree- 
ably in the excellence of the hotel, we perceived it disagreea- 
bly in the price of the wines, and the presence of what my 
friend called " unmitigated vulgarisms " in the coffee room. 
That is the worst of England. The people are vulgar, but 
not vulgar enough. One dances with the lazzaroni at Naples, 
when he would scarce think of handing the newspaper to the 
" person " on a tour at Tarbot. Condescension is "the only 
agreeable virtue, I have made up my mind. 

Well — it was moonlight. The wind was south and affec- 
tionate, and the road in front of the hotel " neck'd with silver," 
and my friend's wife, and the corresponding object of interest 
to myself, being on the other side of Ben Lomond and the 
Tweed, we had nothing for it after supper but to walk up 
and down with one another, and talk of the past. In the 
course of our ramble, we walked through an open gate, and 
ascending a gravel walk, found a beautiful cottage, built be- 
tween two mountain streams, and ornamented with every de- 
vice of taste and contrivance. The mild pure torrents were 
led over falls, and brought to the thresholds of bowers ; and 
seats, and bridges, and winding paths, were distributed up the 



90 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



steep channels, in a way that might make it a haunt for Tita- 
nia. It is the property, we found afterward, of a Scotch 
gentleman, and a great summer retreat of the celebrated Jef- 
frey, his friend. It was one more place to which my heart 
clung in parting. 

Loch Lomond sat still for its picture in the morning, and 
after an early breakfast, we took a row-boat, with a couple of 
Highlanders, for Inversnade, and pulled across the lake with 
a kind of drowsy delightfulness in the scene and air which I 
have never before found out of Italy. We overshot our des- 
tination a little to look into Rob Roy's Cave, a dark den in the 
face of the rock, which has the look of his vocation ; and then 
pulling back along the shore, w T e were landed, in the spray 
of a waterfall, at a cottage occupied by the boatmen of this 
Highland ferry. From this point across to Loch Katrine, is 
some five miles, and the scene of Scott's novel of Rob Roy. 
It has been " done " so often by tourists, that I leave all par- 
ticular description of the localities and scenery to the well- 
hammered remembrance of readers of magazines, and confine 
myself to my own private adventures. 

The distance between the lakes is usually performed by 
ladies on donkeys, and by gentlemen on foot, but being my- 
self rather tender-toed with the gout, my companion started 
off alone, and I lay down on the grass at Inversnade to wait 
the return of the long-eared troop, who were gone across with 
an earlier party. The waterfall and the cottage just above the 
edge of the lake, a sharp hill behind, closely wooded with 
birch and fir, and, on a green sward platform in the rear of 
the house, two Highland lasses and a laddie, treading down a 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 9l 



stack of new hay, were not bad circumstances in which to be 
left alone with the witcheries of the great enchanter. 

I must narrate here an adventure in which my own part 
was rather a discomfiture, but which will show somewhat the 
manners of the people. My companion had been gone half 
an hour, and I was lying at the foot of a tree, listening to the 
waterfall and looking off on the lake, and watching, by fits, 
the lad and lasses I have spoken of, who were building a hay- 
stack between them, and chattering away most unceasingly 
in Gaelick. The eldest of the girls was a tall, ill-favored dam- 
sel, merry as an Oread, but as ugly as Donald Bean ; and, 
after a while, I began to suspect, by the looks of the boy 
below, that I had furnished her with a new theme. She ad- 
dressed some remark to me presently, and a skirmish of banter 
ensued, which ended in a challenge to me to climb upon the 
stack. It was about ten feet high, and shelving outward from 
the bottom, and my Armida had drawn up the ladder. The 
stack was built, however, under a high tree, and I was soon 
up the trunk, and, swinging off from a long branch, dropped 
into the middle of the stack. In the same instant I was raised 
in a grasp to which I could offer no resistance, and, with a 
flin«: to which I should have believed the strength of few 
men equal, thrown clear of the stack to the ground. I 
alighted on my back, with a fall of, perhaps, twelve feet, and 
felt seriously hurt. The next moment, however, my gentle 
friend had me in her arms (I am six feet high in my stockings) 
and I was carried into the cottage, and laid on a flock bed, 
before I could well decide whether my back was broken or 
no. Whiskey was applied externally and internally, and the 



92 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

old crone, who was the only inhabitant of the hovel, com- 
menced a lecture in Gaelick, as I stood once more sound upon 
my legs, which seemed to take effect upon the penitent, 
though her victim was no wiser for it. I took the opportunity 
to look at the frame which had proved itself of such vigorous 
power; but, except arms of extraordinary length, she was like 
any other equally ugly, middle-sized woman. In the remain- 
ing half hour, before the donkeys arrived, we became the best 
of friends, and she set me off for Loch Katrine, with a caution 
to the ass- driver to take care of me, which that sandy-haired 
Highlander took as an excellent joke. And no wonder ! 

The long mountain glen between these two lakes was the 
home of Rob Roy, and the Highlanders point out various 
localities, all commemorated in Scott's incomparable story. 
The house where Helen M'Gregor was born lies a stone's 
throw off the road to the left, and Rob Roy's gun is shown by 
an old woman who lives near by. He must have been rich 
in arms by the same token ; for, beside the well-authenticated 
one at Abbotsford, I have seen some dozen guns, and twice 
as many daggers and shot-pouches, which lay claim to the 
same honor. I paid my shilling to the old woman not the 
less. She ow T ed it to the pleasure I had received from Sir 
"Walter's novel. 

The view of Loch Lomond back from -the highest point *)f 
the pass is incomparably fine ; at least, when I saw it ; for 
sunshine and temperature, and the effect of the light vapors 
on the hills, were at their loveliest and most favorable. It 
looks more like the haunt of a robber and his caterans, proba- 
bly, in its more common garb of Scotch mist ; but, to my eye, 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 93 

it was a scene of the most Arcadian peace and serenity. I 
dawdled along the five miles upon my donkey, with something 
of an ache in my back, but a very healthful and sunny free- 
dom from pain and impatience at my heart. And so did not 
Baillie Nicol Jarvey make the same memorable journey. 



LETTEK XIII. 

HIGHLAND HUT, ITS FURNITURE AND INMATES-HIGHLAND AMUSE-; 
MENT AND DINNER-" ROB ROY," AND SCENERY OF THE " LADY 
OF THE LAKE." 

The cottage-inn at the head of Loch Katrine, was tenanted 
by a woman who might have been a horse-guardsman in petti 
coats, and who kept her smiles for other cattle than the Sas 
senach. We bought her whiskey and milk, praised her butter 
and were civil to the little Highlandman at her breast; bid 
neither mother nor child were to be mollified. The rock* 
were bare around, we were too tired for a pull in the boat 
and three mortal hours lay between us and the nearest even- 
in our history. I first penetrated, in the absence of our He 
cate, to the inner room of the shieling. On the wall hung j 

broadsword, two guns, a trophy or two of deers' horns, and i 

[94J 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. ,,~ 



Sunday suit of plaid, philibeg and short red coat, surmounted 
by a gallant bonnet and feather. Four cribs, like the berths 
in a ship, occupied the farther side of the chamber, eaeh large 
enough to contain two persons ; a snow-white table stood be- 
tween the windows; a sixpenny glass, with an eagle's feather 
stuck in the frame, hung at such a height that, " though tall 
of my hands," I could just see my nose ; and just under the 
ceiling on the left was a broad and capacious shelf, on which 
reposed apparently the old clothes of a century — a sort of 
place where the gude-wife would have hidden Prince Charlie, 
or might rummage for her grandmother's baby-linen. 

The heavy steps of the dame came over the threshold, and 
I began to doubt, from the look in her eyes, whether I should 
get a blow of her hairy arm or a " persuader " from the butt 
of a gun for my intrusion. " What are ye wantin' here ?" she 
speered at me, with a Helen M'Gregor-to-Baillie-Nicol-Jarvie- 
sort of an expression. 

" I was looking for a potato to roast, my good woman." 

" Is that a' ? Ye'll find it ayont, then !" and pointing to a 
bag in the corner, she stood while I subtracted the largest, 
and then followed me to the general kitchen and receiving- 
room, where I buried my improvista dinner in the remains of 
the peat fire, and congratulated myself on my ready apology. 

What to do while the potato was roasting ! My English 
friend had already cleaned his gun for amusement, and I had 
looked on. We had stoned the pony till he had got beyond 
us in the morass, (small thanks to us, if the dame knew it.) 
We had tried to make a chicken swim ashore from the boat, 
we had fired away all my friend's percussion caps, and there 



96 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND TLACES, 



was nothing for it but to converse a rigueur. We lay on our 
backs till the dame brought us the hot potato ou a shovel, 
with oat-cake and butter, and, with this Highland dinner, the 
last hour came decently to its death. 

An Englishman, with his wife and lady's maid, came over 
the hills with a boat's crew ; and a lassie, who was not very 
pretty, but who lived on the lake and had found the means to 
get " Captain Bob" and his men pretty well under her thumb. 
We were all embarked, the lassie in the stern-sheets with the 
captain ; and ourselves, though we " paid the Scot," of no 
more consideration than our portmanteaus. I -was amused 
for it was the first instance I had seen in any country (my own 
not excepted) of thorough emancipation from the distinction! 
of superiors. Luckily the girl was bent on showing the cap-) 
tain to advantage, and by ingenious prompting and catechism 
she induced him to do what probably was his custom when he 
could not better amuse himself — point out the localities as the 
boat sped on, and quote the Lady of the Lake with an accent 
which made it a piece of good fortune to have " crammed " 
the poem before hand. 

The shores of the lake are flat and uninteresting at the 
head, but, toward the scene of Scott's romance, they rise into 
bold precipices, and gradually become worthy of their celeb- 
rity. The Trosachs are a cluster of small, green mountains : 
strewn, or rather piled, with shrubs and mossy verdure, and 
from a distance you would think only a bird, or Eanaldof the 
Mist, could penetrate their labyrinthine recesses. Captain 
Bob showed us successively the Braes of Balquidder, Bofc 
Roy's birth and burial place, Benledi, and the crag from 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. g7 



.vhich hung, by the well woven skirts of braidcloth, the wor- 
thy baillie of Glasgow ; and, beneath a precipice of remarka 
?le wildness, the half intoxicated steersman raised his arm, 
ind began to repeat, in the most unmitigated gutterals : — 

; ' High o'er the south huge Benrenue 
Down to the lake his masses threw, 
Crags, knowls, and mounds co?zfusedly hurl'd 
The fragments of an earlier wnrruld /" etc. 

I have underlined it according to the captain's judicious 
jmphasis, and in the last word have endeavored to spell after 
lis remarkable pronunciation. Probably to a Frenchman, 
lowever, it would have seemed all very fine — for Captain Rob 
I must do him justice, though he broke the strap of my port- 
uanteau) was as good-looking a ruffian as you would sketch on 

summer's tour. 

Some of the loveliest water I have ever seen in my life (and 
'. am rather an amateur of that element — to look at,) lies deep 
lown at the bases of these divine Trosachs. The usual ap- 
proaches from lake to mountain (beach or sloping shore,) are 
lere dispensed with ; and, straight up from the deep water, 
ise the green precipices and bold and ragged rocks, over- 
hadowing the glassy mirror below with teints like a cool cor- 
ler in a landscape of Euysdael's. It is something— (indeed 
>n a second thought, exceedingly) like — Lake George ; only 
hat the islands in this extremity of Loch Katrine lie closer 
ogether, and permit the sun no entrance except by a ray 
dmost perpendicular. A painter will easily understand the 
jffect of this— the loss of all that ?nakes a surface to the water, 
5 



98 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

and the consequent far depth to the eye, as if the boat i 
which you shot over it brought with it its own water and sei 
its ripple through the transparent air. I write currente calam* 
and have no time to clear up my meaning, but it will be ev 
dent to all lovers of nature. 

Captain Eob put up his helm for a little fairy green islam 
lying like a lapfull of green moss on the water, and, roundin 
a point, we ran suddenly into a cove sheltered by a tree, an 
in a moment the boat grated on the pebbles of a natural beac 
perhaps ten feet in length. A flight of winding steps, mad 
roughly of roots and stones, ascended from the water's edge. 

" Gentlemen and ladies!" said the captain, with a hiccu} 
" this is Ellen's Isle. This is the gnarled oak," (catching at 

branch of the tree as the boat swung astern,) and you'i 

please to go up them steps, and I'll tell ye the rest in Ellen 
bower." 

The Highland lassie sprang on shore, and we followed ui 
the steep ascent, arriving breathless at last at the door of 
fanciful bower, built by Lord Willoughby d'Eresby, the owne 
of the island, exactly after the description in the Lady of th 
Lake. The chairs were made of crooked branches of tree 
and covered with deer-skins, the tables were laden with armc 
and every variety of weapon, and the rough beams of th 
building were hung with antlers and other spoils of the chasj 

" Here's where she lived !" said the captain, with the gra^ 
ity of a cicerone at the Forum, " and ?too, if ye'll come ou 
I'll show you the echo !" 

We followed to the highest point of the island, and th 
Highlandman gave a scream that showed considerable prat 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 9 g 



tice, but I thought he would have burst his throat in the 
11 effort. The awful echo went round, " as mentioned in the 
* t>ill of performance," every separate mountain screaming back 
'the discord till you would have thought the Trosachs a crew 

of mocking giants. It was a wonderful echo, but, like most 
^wonders, I could have been content to have had less for my 

! money. 
There was a " small silver beach" on the mainland opposite, 
and above it a high mass of mountain. 

" There," said the captain, " gentlemen and ladies, is where 
Fitz-James bloio'd his bugle, and waited for the ' light shal- 
lop ' of Ellen Douglas ; and here, where you lande&and came 
up them steps, is where she brought him to the bower, and 
the very tree's still there — as you see'd me tak' hold of it — 
and over the hill, yonder, is where the gallant gray giv' out, 
and breathed his last, and (will you turn round, if you please, 
them that likes) yonder s where Fitz-James met Red Murdoch 
that killed Blanche of Devon, and right across this water 
sivnm young Greme that disdained the regular boat, and I 
s'pose on that lower step set the old Harper and Ellen many 
a time a-watching for Douglas — and now, if you'd like to hear 
the echo once more — " 

" Heaven forbid !" was the universal cry; and, in fear of 
our ears, we put the bower between us and Captain Rob's 
luno-s, and followed the Highland girl back to the boat. 

From Ellen's Isle to the head of the small creek, so beauti- 
fully described in the Lady of the Lake, the scenery has the 
same air of lavish and graceful vegetation, and the same fea- 
tures of mingled boldness and beauty. It is a spot altogether 



100 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



that one is sure to live much in with memory. I see it as 
clearly now as then. 

The whiskey had circulated pretty freely among the crew,, 
and all were more or less intoxicated. Captain Bob's first 
feat on his legs was to drop my friend's gun case and break it 
to pieces, for which he instantly got a cuff between the .eyes | 
from the boxing dandy, that would have done the business I 
for a softer head. The Scot was a powerful fellow, and I 
anticipated a row ; but the tremendous power of the blow and 
the skill with which it was planted, quite subdued him. 11q< 
rose from the grass as white as a sheet, but quietly shouldered 
the portmanteau with which he had fallen, and trudged on 
with sobered steps to the inn. 

We took a post-chaise immediately for Callender, and it 
was not till we were five miles from the foot of the lake that I 
lost my apprehensions of an apparition of the Highlander from 
the darkening woods. We arrived at Callender at nine, and 
the next morning at sunrise were on our way to breakfast at 
Stirling. 









LETTER X I V. 



SCOTTISH STAGES THOROUGH-BRED SETTER SCENERY FEMALE 

PEASANTRY MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, STIRLING CASTLE. 

» 

The lakes of Scotland are without the limits of stagecoach 
and post-horse civilization, and to arrive at these pleasant con- 
veniences is to be consoled for the corresponding change in 
the character of the scenery. From Callander there is a coach 
to Stirling, and it was on the top of the " Highlander," (a 
brilliant red coach, with a picture of Rob Roy on the panels,) 
that, with my friend and his dog, I was on the road, bright 
and early, for the banks of the Teith, I have scarce done 
justice, by the way, to my last mentioned companion, (a su- 
perb, thorough-bred setter, who answered to the derogatory 
appellation of Flirt,) for-he had accompanied me in most of my 



102 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

wanderings for a couple of months, and his society had been 
preferred to that of many a reasoning animal on the road, in 
the frequent dearth of amusement. Flirt's pedigree had been 
taken on trust by my friend, the dog-fancier, of whom he was 
bought, only knowing that he came of a famous race, belong- 
ing to a gentleman living somewhere between Stirling and 
Callander; and to determine his birthplace and get another 
of the same breed, was a greater object with his master than 
to see all the lakes and mountains of Caledonia. Poor Flirt 
was elevated to the highest seat on the coach, little aware that 
his reputation for birth and breeding depended on his recog- 
nising the scenes of his puppyhood — for if his former master 
had told truly, these were the fields where his young ideas 
had been taught a dog's share in shooting, and his unconscious 
tail and ears were now under watchful surveillance for a be- 
trayal of his presumed reminiscences. 

The coach rolled on over the dew-damp road, crossing con- 
tinually those bright and sparkling rivulets, which gladden 
the favored neighborhood of mountains ; and the fields and 
farm houses took gradually the look of thrift and care, which 
indicates an approach to a thickly settled country. The cas- 
tle of Doune, a lovely hunting-seat of the Queen of Scots, 
appeared in the distance, with its gray towers half buried in 
trees, when Flirt began to look before and behind, and take 
less notice of the shabby gentleman on his left, who, from 
sharing with him a volant breakfast of bread and bacon, had 
hitherto received the most of his attention. "We kept on at a 
pretty pace, and Flirt's tail shifted sides once or twice with a 
very decided whisk, and his intelligent head gradually grew 



A TKIP TO SCOTLAND. 



103 



more erect upon his neck of white-and-tan. It was evident 
he had travelled the road before. Still on, and as the pellucid 
Teith began to reflect in her eddying mirror the towers of 
Castle Doune — a scene worthy of its tender and chivalrous 
associations — a suppressed whine and a fixed look over the 
fields to the right, satisfied us that the soul of the setter was 
stirring up with the recognition of the past. The coach was 
stopped and Flirt loosed from his chain, and, with a promise 
to join me at Stirling at dinner, my friend u hied away " the 
delighted dog over the hedge, and followed himself on foot, to 
visit, by canine guidance, the birthplace of this accomplished 
family. It was quite beautiful to see the fine creature beat 
the field over and over in his impatience, returning to his 
slower-footed master, as if to hurry him onward, and leaping 
about him with an extravagance eloquent of such unusual joy. 
I lost sight of them by a turning in the road, and reverted for 
consolation to that loveliest river, on whose bank I could have 
lain (had I breakfasted) and dreamed till the sunset of the un- 
fortunate queen, for whose soft e} T es and loving heart it per- 
haps flowed no more brightly in the days of Rizzio, than now 
for mine and those of the early marketers to Stirling. 

The road w 7 as thronged with carts, and peasants in their 
best attire. The gentleman who had provided against the 
enemy with a brown-paper of bread and bacon, informed me 
that it was market day. A very great proportion of the 
country people were women and girls, walking all of them 
barefoot, but with shoes in their hands, and gowns and bon- 
nets that would have eclipsed in finery the bevy of noble ladies 
at Gordon Castle. Leghorn straw-hats and dresses of silk, 



j0 4 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

with ribands of any quantity and brilliancy, were the com- 
monest articles. Feet excepted, however, (for they had no 
triflers of pedestals, and stumped along the road with a sove- 
reign independence of pools and pebbles) they were a whole- 
some-looking and rather pretty class of females; and, with 
the exception of here and there a prim lassie who dropped her 
dress over her feet while the coach passed, and hid her shoes 
aider her handkerchief, the)- seemed perfectly satisfied with 
heir own mode of conveyance, and gave us a smile in passing, 
which said very distinctly, " You'll be there before us, but it's 
only seven miles, and we'll foot it in time." How various are 
the joys of life! I went on with the coach, wondering whe- 
ther I ever could be reduced to find pleasure in walking ten 
miles barefoot to a fair — and back again ! 

I thought again of Mary, as the turrets of the proud castle 
where she was crowned became more distinct in the approach 
— but it is difficult in entering a crowded town, with a real 
breakfast in prospect and live Scotchmen about me, to remem- 
ber with any continuous enthusiasm even the most brilliant 
events in history. 

" Can history cut my hay or get my corn in ? 
Or can philosophy vend it in the market ?" 

says somebody in the play, and with a similar thought I looked 
up at the lofty towers of the home of Scotland's kings, as the 
" Highlander" bowled round its rocky base to the inn. The j 
landlord appeared with his white apron, " boots " with his 
ladder, the coachman and guards with their hints to your 
memory ; and, having ordered, breakfast of the first, descend- 
ed the a convenience r of the second, jand received a tip of the 






A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 105 






hat for a shilling to the remaining two, I was at liberty to 
walk up stairs and while away a melancholy half hour in 
humming such charitable stanzas as would come uncalled to 
my aid. 

" Oh for a plump fat leg of mutton, 
Veal, lamb, capon, pig, and cony, 
None is happy but a glutton. 
None an ass but who wants money." 

So sang the servant of Diogenes, with an exceptionable mo- 
rality, which, nevertheless, it is difficult to get out of one's 
head at Stirling, if one has not already breakfasted. 



I limped up the long street leading to the castle, stopping 
on the way to look at a group of natives who were gaping at 
an advertisement just stuck to the wall, offering to take emi- 
grants to New York on terms " ridiculously trifling." Remem- 
bering the " bannocks o' barley meal" I had eaten for break 
fast, the haddocks and marmalade, the cold grouse and por- 
ridge, I longed to pull Sawney by the coat, and tell him he 
was just as well where he was. Yet the temptation of the 
Greenock trader, " cheap and nasty " though it were, was 
not uninviting to me ! 

I was met on the drawbridge of the castle by a trim corpo- 

xal, who offered to show me the lions for a consideration. I 

put myself under his guidance, and he took me to Queen 
5* 



1 06 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



Mary's apartments, used at present for a mess-room, to the 
chamber where Earl Douglas was murdered, etc. etc. etc., in 
particulars which are accurately treated of in the guide-books. 
The pipers were playing in the court, and a company or tw 7 o 
of a Highland regiment, in their tartans and feathers, were 
under parade. This was attractive metal to me, and I sat 
down on a parapet, where I soon struck up a friendship with 
a curly-headed varlet, some four years old, who shouldered 
my stick without the ceremony of " by-your-leave," and com- 
menced the drill upon an unwashed regiment of his equals in 
a sunshiny corner below. It was delightful to see their grav- 
ity, and the military air with which they cocked their bonnets 
and stuck out their little round stomachs at the word of com- 
mand. My little Captain Cockchafer returned my stick like 
a knight of honor, and familiarly climbed upon my knee to re- 
pose after his campaign, very much to the surprise of his 
mother, who was hanging out to dry, what looked like his 
father's inexpressibles, from a window above, and who came 
down and apologized in the most unmitigated Scotch for the 
liberty the " babby " had taken with " his honor." For the 
child of a camp-follower, it was a gallant boy, and I remem- 
ber him better than the drill-sergeant or the piper. 

On the north side of Stirling Castle the view is bounded by 
the Grampians and laced by the winding Teith ; and just un- 
der the battlements lies a green hollow called the " King's 
Knot," where the gay tournaments were held, and the " La- 
dies' Hill," where sat the gay and lovely spectators of the 
chivalry of Scotland. Heading Hill is near it, where James 
executed Albany and his sons, and the scenes and events of 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 107 



history and poetry are thickly sown at your feet. Once reca- 
pitulated, however— the Bruce and the Douglas, Mary and 

the " Gudeman of Ballengiech," once honored in memory — 
the surpassing beauty of the prospect from Stirling towers, 
engross the fancy and fill the eye. It was a day of predomi- 
nant sunshine, with here and there the shadow of a cloud 
darkening a field of stubble or a bend of the river, and I wan- 
dered round from bastion to bastion, never sated with gazing, 
and returning continually to the points from which the corpo- 
ral had hurried me on. There lay the Forth — here Bannock- 
burn and Falkirk, and all bathed and flooded with beauty. 
Let him who thinks the earth ill-looking, peep at it through 
the embrasures of Stirling Castle. 

My friend, the corporal, got but sixteen pence a day, and 
had a wife and children — but much as I should dislike all 
three as disconnected items, I envied him his lot altogether. A 
garrison life at Stirling, and plenty of leisure, would reconcile 
one almost to wife and children and a couple of pistareens per 
diem. 



LETTER XV 



SCOTCH SCENERY A RACE CHEAPNESS OF LODGINGS IN EDINBURGH 

ABBOTTSFORD — SCOTT LORD DALIIOUSIE THOMAS MOORE 

JANE PORTER THE GRAVE OF SCOTT. 

I was delighted to find Stirling rather worse than Albany 
in the matter of steamers. I had a running fight for my 
portmanteau and carpetbag from the hotel to the pier, and 
was at last embarked in entirely the wrong boat, by sheer 
force of pulling and lying. They could scarce have put me in 
a greater rage between Cruttenden's and the Overslaugh. 

The two rival steamers, the Victory and the Ben Lomond, 
got under way together ; the former, in which I was a com- 
pulsory passenger, having a flagelet and a bass drum by way 
of a band, and the other a dozen lusty performers and most 
of the company. The river was very narrow and the tide 

[108] 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 10 9 



down, and though the other was the better boat, we had the 
bolder pilot, and were lighter laden and twice as desperate. I 
found my own spunk stirred irresistibly after the first mile. 
We were contending against odds, and there was something 
in it that touched my Americanism nearly. We had three 
small boys mounted on the box over the wheel, who cheered 
and waved their hats at our momentary advantages ; but the 
channel was full of windings, and if we gained on the larboard 
tack we lost on the starboard. Whenever we were quite 
abreast and the wheels touched with the narrowness of the 
river, we marched ourflagelet and bass-drum close to the ene- 
my and gave them a blast " to wake the dead," taking occa- 
sion, during our moments of defeat, to recover breath and ply 
the principal musician w 7 ith beer and encouragement. It was 
a scene for Cooper to describe. The two pilots stood broad 
on their legs, every muscle on the alert ; and though Ben Lo- 
mond wore the cleaner jacket, Victory had the u varminter " 
look. You would have bet on Victory to have seen the man. 
He was that wickedest of all wicked things, a wicked Scotch- 
man — a sort of saint-turned-sinner. The expression of early 
good principles was glazed over with drink and recklessness, 
like a scene from the Inferno painted over a Madonna of Ra- 
phael's. It was written in his face that he was a transgressor 
against knowledge. We were perhaps, a half dozen passen- 
gers, exclusive of the boys, and we rallied round ourBardolph 
nosed hero and applauded his skilful manoeuvres ; sun, steam, 
and excitement together, producing a temperature on deck 
that left nothing to dread from the boiler. As we approached 
a sharp bend in the course of the stream, I perceived by the 



110 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

countenance of our pilot, that it was to be a critical moment. 
The Ben Lomond was a little ahead, but we had the advan 
tage of the inside of the course, and very soon, with the com- 
mencement of the curve, we gained sensibly on the enemy, and 
I saw clearly that we should cut her off by a half-boat's 
length. The three boys on the wheel began to shout, the 
flagelet made all split again with " the Campbells arecomin'," 
the bass-drum was never so belabored, and " Tip with your 
helm !" cried every voice, as we came at the rate of twelve 
miles in the hour sharp on to the angle of mud and bulrushes, 
and, to our utter surprise, the pilot jammed down his tiller, 
and ran the battered nose of the Victory plump in upon the 
enemy's forward quarter ! The next moment we were going 
it like mad down the middle of the river, and far astern stuck 
the Ben Lomond in the mud, her paddles driving her deeper 
at every stroke, her music hushed, and the crowd on her deck 
standing speechless with amazement. The flagelet and bass- 
drum marched aft and played louder than ever, and we were 
soon in the open Frith, getting on merrily, but without com- 
petition, to the sleeping isle of Inchkeith. Lucky Victory ! 
luckier pilot ! to have found an historian ! How many a red- 
nosed Palinurus — how many a bass drum and flagelet, have 
done their duty as well, yet achieved no immortality. 

I was glad to see " Auld Beekie " again, though the influx 
of strangers to the " Scientific Meeting" had over-run every 
hotel, and I was an hour or two without a home. I lit at last 
upon a good old Scotchwoman who had " a flat " to herself, 
and who, for the sum of one shilling and sixpence per diem, 
proposed to transfer her only boarder from his bed to a sofa, 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. m 



as long as I should wish to stay. I made a humane remon- 
strance against the inconvenience to her friend. " It's only a 
Jew," she said, " and they're na difficult, puir bodies !" The 
Hebrew came in while we were debating the point — a smirk- 
ing gentleman, with very elaborate whiskers, much better 
dressed than the proposed usurper of his sanctum — and with- 
out the slightest hesitation professed that nothing would give 
him so much pain as to stand in the way of his landlady's in- 
terest. So For eighteen pence — and I could not prevail on her 
to take another farthing — I had a Jew put to inconvenience, a 

bed, boots and clothes brushed, and Mrs. Mac to sit up 

for me till two in the morning — what the Jew himself would 
have called a " cheap article." 



I returned to my delightful quarters at Dalhousie Castle on 
the following day, and among many excursions in the neigh- 
borhood during the ensuing week, accomplished a visit to 
Abbottsford. This most interesting of all spots has been so 
minutely and so often described, that a detailed account of it 
would be a mere repetition. Description, however, has anti- 
cipated nothing to the visiter. The home of Sir Walter Scott 
would possess an interest to thrill the heart, if it were as well 
painted to the eye of fancy as the homes of his own heroes. 

It is a dreary country about Abbottsford, and the house 
itself looks from a distance like a small, low castle, buried in 
stunted trees, on the side of a long, sloping upland or moor. 



112 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



The river is between you and the chateau as you come down 
to Melrose from the north, and you see the gray towers oppo- 
site you from the road at the distance of a mile — the only 
habitable spot in an almost desolate waste of country. From 
the town of Melrose you approach Abbottsford by a long, 
green lane, and, from the height of the hedge and the descend- 
ing ground on which the house is built, you would scarce 
suspect its vicinity till you enter a small gate on the right and 
find yourself in an avenue of young trees. This conducts you 
immediately to the door, and the first effect on me was that of 
a spacious castle seen through a reversed glass. In fact it is 
a kind of castle cottage — not larger than what is often called 
a cottage in England, yet to the minutest point and proportion 
a model of an ancient castle. The deception in the engravings 
of the place lies in the scale. It seems like a vast building as 
usually drawn. 

One or two hounds were lounging round the door ; but the 
only tenant of the place was a slovenly housemaid, whom we 
interrupted in the profane task of scrubbing the furniture in 
the library. I could have pitched her and her scrubbing 
brushes out of the window w r ith a good will. It is really a 
pity that this sacred place, with its thousand valuable and irre- 
placeable curiosities, should be so carelessly neglected. We 
were left to wander over the house and the museum as we 
liked. I could have brought away — and nothing is more 
common than this species of theft in England — twenty things 
from that rare collection, of which the value could scarce be 
estimated. The pistols and dagger of Eob Roy, and a hun- 
dred equally valuable and pocketable things, lay on the shelves 



A TBIP TO SCOTLAND. 



J 13 



unprotected, quite at the mercy of the ill-disposed, to say. no- 
thing of the merciless " cleanings " of the housemaid. The 
present Sir Walter Scott is a captain of dragoons, with his 
regiment in Ireland, and the place is never occupied by the 
family. Why does not Scotland buy Abbottsford, and secure 
to herself, while it is still perfect, the home of her great magi- 
cian, and the spot that to after ages would be, if preserved in 
its curious details, the most interesting in Great Britain ? 

After showing us the principal rooms, the woman opened a 
small closet adjoining the study, in which hung the last clothes 
that Sir Walter had worn. There was the broad-skirted blue 
coat with large buttons, the plaid trousers, the heavy shoes, 
the broad-rimmed hat and stout walking stick — the dress in 
which he rambled about in the morning, and which he laid 
olf when he took to his bed in his last illness. She took down 
the coat and gave it a shake and a wipe of the collar, as if he 
were waiting to put it on again ! 

It was encroaching somewhat on the province of Touch- 
stone and Wamba to moralize on a suit of clothes — but I am 
convinced I got from them a better idea of Scott, as he was 
in his familiar hours, than any man can have who has seen 
neither him nor them. There was a character in the hat and 
shoes. The coat was an honest and hearty coat. The stout, 
rough walking-stick, seemed as if it could have belonged to 
no other man. I appeal to my kind friends and fellow travel- 
lers who were there three days before me (I saw their names 
on the book,) if the same impression was not made on them. 

I asked for the room in which Sir Walter died. She showed 
it to me, and the place where the bed had stood, which was 



124 FAMOUS PERSONS AiNL PEACES. 



now removed. I was curious to see the wall or the picture 
over which his last looks must have passed. Directly opposite 
the foot of the bed hung a remarkable picture — the head of 
Mary Queen of Scots, in a dish taken after her. execution. 
The features were composed and beautiful. On either side 
of it hung spirited drawings from the Tales of a Grandfather 
— one very clever sketch, representing the wife of a border- 
knight serving up her husband's spurs for dinner, to remind 
him of the poverty of the larder and the necessity of a foray. 
On the left side of the bed was a broad window to the west — 
the entrance of the last light to his eyes — and from hence had 
sped the greatest spirit that has walked the world since 
Shakspeare. It almost makes the heart stand still to be silent 
and alone on such a spot. 

What an interest there is in the trees of Abbottsford — 
planted every one by the same hand that waved its wand of 
enchantment over the world ! One walks among them as if 
they had thoughts and memories. 

Everybody talks of Scott who has ever had the happiness 
of seeing him, and it is strange how interesting it is even when 
there is no anecdote, and only the most commonplace inter- 
view is narrated. I have heard, since I have been in England, 
hundreds of people describe their conversations with him, and 
never the dullest without a certain interest far beyond that of 
common topics. Some of these have been celebrated people, 
and there is the additional weight that they were honored 
friends of Sir Walter's. 

Lord Dalhousie told me that he was Scott's playfellow at 
the high school of Edinboro'. There was a peculiar arrange- 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. , . - 

1 15 



ment of the benches with a head and foot, so that the ooys 
sat above or below, according to their success in recitation. It 
so happened that the warmest seat in the school, that next to 
the stove, was about two from the bottom, and this Scott, 
who was a very good scholar, contrived never to leave. He 
stuck to his seat from autumn till spring, never so deficient as 
to get down, and never choosing to answer rightly if the re- 
sult was to go up. He was very lame, and seldom shared in 
the sports of the other boys, but was a prodigious favorite, 
and loved to sit in the sunshine, with a knot of boys around 
him, telling stories. Lord Dalhousie's friendship with him 
was uninterrupted through life, and he invariably breakfasted 
at the castle on his way to and from Edinboro'. 

I met Moore at a dinner party not long since, and Scott 
was again, (as at a previous dinner I have described) the sub- 
ject of conversation. " He was the soul of honesty," said 
Moore. " When I was on a visit to him, we were coming up 
from Kelso at sunset, and as there was to be a fine moon, I 
quoted to him his own rule for seeing ' fair Melrose aright,' 
and proposed to stay an hour and enjoy it. ' Bah !' said he, 
" / never saw it by moonlight.' We went, however ; and 
Scott, who seemed to be on the most familiar terms with the 
cicerone, pointed to an empty niche and said to him, ' I think, 
by the way, that I have a Virgin and Child that will just do 
for your niche. I'll send it to you !' ' How happy you have 
made that man !' said I to him. ' Oh,' said Scott, ' it was 
always in the way, and Madame S. is constantly grudging it 
house-room. We're well rid of it.' 



I i q FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

" Any other man," said Moore, " would have allowed him- 
self at least the credit of a kind action." 

I have had the happiness since I have been in England of 
passing some weeks at a country house where Miss Jane 
Porter was an honored guest, and, among a thousand of the 
most delightful reminiscences that were ever treasured, she 
has told me a great deal of Scott, who visited at her mother's 
as a boy. She remembers him then as a good-humored lad, 
but very fond of fun, who used to take her younger sister, 
(Anna Maria Porter) and frighten her by holding her out of 
the window. Miss Porter had not seen him since that age; 
but, after the appearance of Guy Mannering, she heard that 
he was in London, and drove with a friend to his house. Not 
quite sure (as she modestly says) of being remembered, she 
sent in a note, saying, that if he remembered the Porters, 
whom he used to visit, Jane w T ould like to see him. He came 
rushing to the door, and exclaimed, " Remember you! Miss 
Porter," and threw his arms about her neck and burst into 
tears. After this he corresponded constantly with the family, 
and about the time of his first stroke of paralysis, when his 
mind and memory failed him, the mother of Miss Porter died, 
and Scott sent a letter of condolence. It began — " Dear 
Miss Porter " — but, as he went on, he forgot himself, and 
continued the letter as if addressed to her mother, ending it 
with — " And now, dear Mrs. Porter, farewell ! and believe 
me } T ours for ever (as long as there is anything of me) Wal- 
ter Scott." Miss Porter bears testimony, like every one else 
who knew him, to his greatheartedness no less than to his 
genius. 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. i 17 



I am not sure that others like as well as myself these " no- 
things " about men of genius. I would rather hear the con- 
versation between Scott and a peasant on the road, for exam- 
ple, than the most piquant anecdote of his brighter hours. I 
like a great mind in dishabille. 

We returned by Melrose Abbey, of which I can say nothing 
new, and drove to Dryburgh to see the grave of Scott. He 
is buried in a rich old Gothic corner of a ruin — fittingly. He 
chose the spot, and he sleeps well. The sunshine is broken 
on his breast by a fretted and pinnacled window, overrun with 
ivy, and the small chapel in which he lies is open to the air, 
\and ornamented with the mouldering scutcheons of his race. 
There are few more beautiful ruins than Dryburgh Abbey, 
and Scott lies in its sunniest and most fanciful nook — a grave 
that seems divested of the usual horrors of a grave. 

We were ascending the Gala-water at sunset, and supped 
at Dalhousie, after a day crowned with thought and feeling. 



LETTER XVI 



BORDER SCENERY COACHMANSHIP ENGLISH COUNTRY-SEATS — 

THEIR EXQUISITE COMFORT OLD CUSTOMS IN HIGH PRESERVA- 
TION pride AND STATELINESS OF THE LANCASHIRE AND CHESH 

IRE GENTRY THEIR CONTEMPT FOR PARVENUS. 

If Scott had done nothing else, he would have deserved 

well of his country for giving an interest to the barren wastes 

by which Scotland is separated from England. " A' the blue 

bonnets" must have had a melancholy march of it " Over the 

Border." From Gala- Water to Carlisle it might be any 

where a scene for the witches' meeting in Macbeth. We 

bowled away at nearly twelve miles in the hour, however, 

(which would unwind almost any " serpent of care " from the 

heart.) and if the road was not lined with witches and moss- 
[118] 



.\ TRIP TO SCOTLAND. ng 



troopers, it was well macadamized. I got a treacherous 
supper at Howick, where the Douglas pounced upon Sir 
Alexander Ramsay; and, recovering my good humor at Oar- 
lisle, grew happier as the fields grew greener, and came down 
by Kendal and its emerald valleys with the speed of an arrow 
and the light heartedness of its feather. How little the farmer 
thinks when he plants his hedges and sows his fields, that tho 
passing wayfarer will anticipate the gleaners and gather sun- 
shine from his ripening harvest. 

I was admiring the fine old castle of Lancaster, (now dese- 
crated to the purposes of a county jail,) when our thirteen- 
mile whip ran over a phaeton standing quietly in the road, 
and spilt several women and children, as you may say, en 
2?assant. The coach must arrive, though it kill as many as 
Juggernaut, and Jehu neither changed color, nor spoke a 
word, but laid the silk over his leaders to make up the back- 
water of the jar, and rattled away up the street, with the guard 
blowing the French horn to the air of Cs Smile again, my bonny 
lassie." Nobody threw stones after us ; the horses were 
changed in a minute and three quarters, and away w T e sped 
from the town of the "red nose." There was a cool, you- 
know-where-to -find-me sort of indifference in this adventure, 
which is peculiarly English. I suppose if his leaders had 
changed suddenly into griffins, he would have touched them 
under the wing and kept his pace. 

Bound on a visit to Hall in Lancashire, I left the 

coach at Preston. The landlady of the Red Lion became 
very suddenly anxious that I should not take cold when she 
found out the destination of her post-chaise. I arrived just 



1 20 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



after sunset at my friend's lodge, and ordering the postillion 
to a walk, drove leisurely through the gathering twilight to 
the Hall. It was a mile of winding road through the pecu- 
liarly delicious scenery of an English park, the game visible 
in every direction, and the glades and woods disposed with 
that breadth and luxuriance of taste that make the country 
houses of England palaces in Arcadia. Anxious as I had 
been to meet my friend, whose hospitality I had before expe- 
rienced in Italy, I was almost sorry when the closely-shaven 
sward and glancing lights informed me that my twilight drive 
was near its end. 

An arrival in a strange house in England seems, to a for- 
eigner, almost magical. The absence of all the bustle conse- 
quent on the same event abroad, the silence, respectfulness, 
and self possession of the servants, the ease and expedition 
with which he is installed in a luxurious room, almost with 
his second breath under the roof — bis portmanteau unstrap- 
ped, his toilet laid out, his dress shoes and stockings at his 
feet, and the fire burning as if he had sat by it all day — it is 
like the golden facility of a dream. " Dinner at seven !" are 
the only words he has heard, and he finds himself (some three 
minutes having elapsed since he w T as on the road) as much at 
home as if he had lived there all his life, and pouring the hot 
water into his wash-basin with the feeling that comfort and 
luxury in this country are very much matters of course. 

The bell rings for dinner, and the new-comer finds his way 
to the drawing room. He has not seen his host, perhaps, for 
a year ; but his entree is anything but a scene. A cordial 
shake of the hand, a simple inquiry after his health, while the 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 



121 



different members of the family collect in the darkened room, 
and the preference of his arm by the lady of the house to walk 
into dinner, are all that would remind him that he and his 
host had ever parted. The soup is criticised, the weather 
"resumed," as the French have it, gravity prevails, and the 
wine that he used to drink is brought him without question 
by the remembering butler. The stranger is an object of no 
more attention than any other person, except in the brief 
" glad to see you," and the accompanying just perceptible nod 
with which the host drinks w T ine with him ; and, not even in 
the abandon of after-dinner conversation, are the mutual remi- 
niscences of the host and his friend suffered to intrude on the 
indifferent portion of the company. The object is the general 
enjoyment, and you are not permitted to monopolize the sym- 
pathies of the hour. You thus escape the aversion with 
which even a momentary favorite is looked upon in society, 
and in your turn you are not neglected, or bored with a sen- 
sation, on the arrival of another. In what other country is 
civilization carried to the same rational perfection ? 

I was under the hands of a physician during the week of 

my stay at Hall, and only crept out with the lizards 

for a little sunshine at noon. There was shooting in the park 
for those who liked it, and fox hunting in the neighborhood 
for those who could follow, but I was content (upon compul- 
sion) to be innocent of the blood of hares and partridges, and 
the ditches of Lancashire are innocent of mine. The well- 
stocked library, with its caressing chairs, was a paradise of 
repose after travel ; and the dinner, with its delightful society,' 
sufficed for the day's event. 
C 



12 o FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

My host was himself very much of a cosmopolite ; but his 
neighbors, one or two most respectable squires of the old 
school among them, had the usual characteristics of people who 
have passed their lives on one spot, and though gentlemanlike 
and good-humored, were rather difficult to amuse. I found 
none of the uproariousness which distinguished the Squire 
"Western of other times. The hale fox-hunter was in white 
cravat and black coat, and took wine and politics moderately ; 
and his wife and daughters, though silent and impracticable, 
were well-dressed, and marked by that indefinable stamp of 
" blood," visible no less in the gentry than in the nobility of 
England. 

I was delighted to encounter at my friend's table one or 
two of the old English peculiarities, gone out nearer the me- 
tropolis. Toasted cheese and spiced ale — " familiar creatures" 
in common life — were here served up with all the circumstance 
that attended them when they were not disdained as the allow- 
ance of maids of honor. On the disappearance of the pastry, 
a massive silver dish, chased with the ornate elegance of an- 
cient plate, holding coals beneath, and protected by a hinged 
cover, was set before the lady of the house. At the other 
extremity of the table stood a " peg tankard " of the same 
fashion, in the same massive metal, with two handles, and 
of an almost fabulous capacity. Cold cheese and port were 
at a discount. The celery, albeit both modish and popular, 
was neglected. The crested cover erected itself on its hinge, 
and displayed a flat surface, covered thinly with blistering 
cheese, with a soupcon of brown in its complex/on, quivering 
and delicate, and of a most stimulating odor. A little was 






A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 123 

served to each guest, and commended as it deserved, and then 
the flagon's head was lifted in its turn by the staid butler, and 
the master of the house drank first. It went around with the 
sun, not disdained by the ladies' lips in passing, and came to 
me, something lightened of its load. As a stranger I was ad- 
vised of the law before lifting it to my head. Within, from 
the rim to the bottom, extended a line of silver pegs, supposed 
to contain, in the depth from one to the other, a fair draught 
for each bibber. The flagon must not be taken from the lips, 
and the penalty of drinking deeper than the first peg below 
the surface, was to drink to the second — a task for the friar 
of Copmanhurst. As the visible measure was of course lost 
when the tankard was dipped, ir required some practice or a 
cool judgment not to exceed the draught. Raising it with 
my tw 7 o hands, I measured the distance with my eye, and 
watched till the floating argosy of toast should swim beyond 
the reach of my nose. The spicy odor ascended gratefully to 
the brain. The cloves and cinnamon clung in a dark circle to 
the edges. I drank without drawing breath, and complacently 
passed the flagon. As the sea of all settled to a calm, my 
next neighbor silently returned the tankard. I had exceeded 
the draught. There was a general cry of " drink ! drink !" 
and sounding my remaining capacity with the plummet of a 
long breath, I laid my hands once more on the vessel, and 
should have paid the penalty or perished in the attempt, but 
for the grace shown me as a foreigner, at the intercession of 
that sex distinguished for its mercy. 

This adherence to the more hearty viands and customs of 
olden time, by the way, is an exponent of a feeling sustained 



12 4 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



with peculiar tenacity in that part of England. Cheshire and 
Lancashire are the stronghold of that race peculiar to this 
country, the gentry. In these counties the peerage is no au- 
thority for gentle birth. A title unsupported by centuries of 
honorable descent, is worse than nothing ; and there is many 
a squire, living in his immemorial " Hall," who would not ex- 
change his name and pedigree for the title of ninety-nine in a 
hundred of the nobility of England. Here reigns aristocracy. 
Your Baron Rothschild, or your new-created lord from the 
Bank or the Temple, might build palaces in Cheshire, and live 
years in the midst of its proud gentry unvisited. They are 
the cold cheese, celery, and port, in comparison with the 
toasted cheese and spiced ale. 



LETTER XVII 



ENGLISH CORDIALITY AND HOSPITALITY, AND THE FEELINGS AWAK- 
ENED BY IT LIVERPOOL, UNCOMFORTABLE COFFEE-HOUSE THERE 

V TRAVELLING AMERICANS NEW YORK PACKETS THE RAILWAY 

MANCHESTER. 

England would be a more pleasant country to travel in if 
one's feelings took root with less facility. In the continental 
countries, the local ties are those of the mind and the senses. 
In England they are those of the affections. One wanders 
from Italy to Greece, and from Athens to Ephesus, and re- 
turns and departs again ; and, as he gets on shipboard, or 
mounts his horse or his camel, it is with a sigh over some pic- 
ture or statue left behind, some temple or waterfall — perhaps 

some cook or vintage. He makes his last visit to the Fount 

[125] 



126 FAMOUS PERSONS AND TLACES. 

of Egeria, or the Venus of the Tribune— to the Caryatides of 
the Parthenon, or the Cascatelles of Tivoli— or pathetically 
calls for his last bottle of untransferable lachra christi, or his 
last cotelettes provencales. He has " five hundred friends" like 
other people, and has made the usual continental intimacies — 
but his valet-de place takes charge of his adieus — (distributes 
his " p. p. cV for a penny each,) and he forgets and is forgot- 
ten by those he leaves behind, ere his passport is recorded at 
the gates. In all these countries, it is only as a resident or a 
native that you are treated with kindness or admitted to the 
penetralia of domestic life. You are a bird of passage, ex- 
pected to contribute a feather to every nest, but welcomed to 
none. In England this same disqualification becomes a claim. 
The name of a stranger opens the private house, sets you the 
chair of honor, prepares }^our bed, and makes everything that 
contributes to your comfort or pleasure temporarily your own. 
And when you take your departure, your host has informed 
himself of your route, and provided you with letters to his 
friends, and you may go through the country from end to end, 
and experience everywhere the same confiding and liberal hos- 
pitality. Every foreigner who has come well introduced to 
England, knows how unexaggerated is this picture. 

I was put upon the road again by my kind friend, and with 
a strong west wind coming off the Atlantic, drove along with- 
in sound of the waves, on the road to Liverpool. It was a 
mild wind, and came with a welcome — for it was freighted 
with thoughts of home. Goethe says, we are never separated 
from our friends as long as the streams run down from them 
to us. Certain it is, that distance seems less that is measured 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 



127 



by waters and winds. America seemed near, with the ocean 
at my feet and only its waste paths between. I sent my heart 
over (against wind and tide) with a blessing and a prayer. 

There are good inns, I believe, at Liverpool, but the coach 
put me down at the dirtiest and worst specimen of a public 
house that I have encountered in England. As I was to stay 
but a night, I overcame the prejudice of the first coup cVazil, 
and made the best of a dinner in the coffee room. It was 
crowded with people, principally merchants, I presumed, and 
the dinner hour having barely passed, most of them were sit- 
ting over their wine or toddy at the small tables, discussing 
prices or reading the newspapers. Near me were two young 
men, whose faces I thought familiar to me, and with a second 
look I resolved them into two of my countrymen, who, I 
found out presently by their conversation, were eating their 
first dinner in England. They were gentlemanlike young 
men, of good education, and I pleased myself with looking 
about and imagining the comparison they would draw, with 
their own country fresh in their recollection, between it and 
this. I could not help feeling how erroneous in this case 
would be a first impression. The gloomy coffee room, the 
hurried and uncivil waiters, the atrocious cookery, the bad 
air, greasy tables, filthy carpet, and unsocial company — and 
this one of the most popular and crowded inns of the first 
commercial town in England ! My neighbors themselves, 
too, afforded me some little speculation. They were a fair 
specimen of the young men of our country, and after several 
years' exclusive conversance with other nations, I was curious 
to compare an untravelled American with the Europeans 



j 28 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



around me. I was struck with the exceeding ambiliousness 
of their style of conversation. Dr. Pangloss himself would 
have given them a degree. They called nothing by its week- 
day name, and avoided with singular pertinacity exactly that 
upon which the modern English are as pertinaciously bent: — 
a concise homeliness of phraseology. They were dressed 
much better than the people about them, (who were appa- 
rently in the same sphere of life,) and had on the whole a supe- 
rior air — owing possibly to the custom prevalent in America 
of giving young men a university education before they enter 
into trade. Like myself, too, they had not }^et learned the 
.English accomplishment of total unconsciousness in the pres- 
ence of others. When not conversing they did not study pro- 
foundly the grain of the mahogany, nor gaze with solemn ear- 
nestness into the bottom of their wine-glasses, nor peruse with 
the absorbed fixedness of Belshazzar, the figures on the wall. 
They looked about them with undisguised curiosity, ordered 
a great deal more wine than they wanted {very American, 
that !) and were totally without the self-complacent, self- 
amused, sober-felicity air which Jchn Bull assumes after his 
cheese in a coffee room. 

I did not introduce myself to my countrymen, for an Amer- 
ican is the last person in the world with whom one should de- 
part from the ordinary rules of society. Having no fixed rank 
either in their own or a foreign country, they construe all un- 
common civility into either a freedom, or a desire to patronise 
— and the last is the unpardonable sin, They called after a 
while for a '•' mint julep," (unknown in England,) for slippers, 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND l2g 



(rather an unusual call also — gentlemen usually wearing their 
own,) and seemed very much surprised on asking for candles, 
at being ushered to bed by the chambermaid. 

I passed the next morning in walking about Liverpool. It 
is singularly like New York in its general air, and quite like 
it in the character of its population. I presume I must have 
met many of my countrymen, for there were some who passed 
me in the street whom I could have sworn to. In a walk to 
the American consul's, (to whose polite kindness I, as well as 
all my compatriots, have been very much indebted,) I was 
lucky enough to see a New York packet drive into the harbor 
under full sail — as gallant a sight as you would wish to see. 
It was blowing rather stiffly, and she ran up to her anchorage 
like a bird, and taking in her canvass with the speed of a 
man-of-war, was lying in a few moments with her head to 
the tide, as neat and as tranquil as if she had slept for the 
last month at her moorings. I could feel in the air that came 
ashore from her, that I had letters on board. 



Anxious to get on to Cheshire, where, as they say of the 
mails, I had been due some days, and very anxious to get rid 
of the perfume of beer, beefsteaks, and bad soup, with which 
I had become impregnated at the inn, I got embarked in an 
omnibus at noon, and was taken to the railway. I was just 
G* 



1 30 FAMOUS PEKSONS AND PLACES. 



in time, and down we dived into the long tunnel, emerging 
from the darkness at a pace that made my hair sensibly 
tighten and hold on with apprehension. Thirty miles in the 
hour is pleasant going when one is a little accustomed to it. 
It gives one such a contempt for time and distance ! The 
whizzing past of the return trains, going in the other direction 
with the same velocit}?-, making you recoil in one second, and 
a mile off the next — was the only thing which, after a few 
minutes, I did not take to very kindly. There were near a 
hundred passengers, most of them precisely the class of Eng- 
lish which we see in our country — the fags of Manchester and 
Birmingham — a class, I dare say, honest and worthy, but 
much more to my taste in their own country than mine. 

I must confess to a want of curiosity respecting spinning- 
jennies. Half an hour of Manchester contented me, yet in 
that half hour I was cheated to the amount of four and-six- 
pence — unless the experience was worth the money. Under 
a sovereign I think it not worth while to lose one's temper, 
and I contented myself with telling the man (he was a coach 
proprietor) as I paid him the second time for the same thing 
in the course of twenty minutes, that the time and trouble he 
must have had in bronzing his face to that degree of impu- 
dence gave him some title to the money. I saw some pretty 
scenery between Manchester and my destination, and having 
calculated my time very accurately, I was set down at the 

gates of Hall, as the dressing bell for dinner came over 

the park upon the wind. I found another English welcome, 



A TRIP TO SCOTLAND. 131 

passed three weeks amid the pleasures of English country 
life, departed as before with regrets, and without much more 
incident or adventure reached London on the first of Novem- 
ber, and established myself for the winter. 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 



Ship Gladiator, off the Isle of Wight, 
Evening of June 9th, 1839. 

The bullet which preserves the perpendicular of my cabin- 
lamp is at last still, I congratulate myself; and with it my 
optic nerve resumes its proper and steady function. The va- 
grant tumblers, the peripatetic teeth-brushes, the dancing 
stools, the sidling wash-basins and et-ceteras, have returned to; 
n steady life. The creaking bulkheads cry no more. I sit on 
a. trunk which will not run away with me, and pen and paper 
look up into my face with their natural sobriety and attention. 
I have no apology for not writing to you, except w 7 ant of event 
since we parted. There is not a milestone in the three thou- 
sand four hundred miles I have travelled. " Travelled !" said 
I. I am as unconscious of having moved from the wave on 
whicn you left me at Staten Island as the prisoner in the hulk. 

[132] 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 133 

I have pitched forward and backward, and rolled from my 
left cheek to my right; but as to any feeling of having gone 
onward I am as unconscious of it as a lobster backing after 
the ebb. The sea is a dreary vacuity, in which he, perhaps, 
who was ever well upon it, can find material for thought. But 
for one, I will sell at sixpence a month, all copyhold upon so 
much of my life as is destined " to the deep, the blue, the black" 
(and whatever else he calls it,) of my friend the song- 
writer. 

Yet there are some moments recorded, first with a sigh, 
which we find afterward copied into memory with a smile. 
Here and there a thought has come to me from the wave, 
snatched listlessly from the elements — here and there a word 
has been said which on shore should have been wit or good 
feeling — here and there a " good morning," responded to with 
an effort, has from its courtesy or heartiness, left an impres- 
sion which will make to-morrow's parting phrases more earn- 
est than I had anticipated. — With this green isle to windward 
and the smell of earth and flowers coming to my nostrils once 
more, I begin to feel an interest in several who have sailed 
with me. Humanity, killed in me invariably by salt water, 
revives, I think, with this breath of hawthorn. 

The pilot tells us that the Montreal, which sailed ten days 
before us, has not yet passed up the channel, and that we have 
brought with us the first west wind they have had in many 
weeks. The sailors do not know what to say to this, for we 
had four parsons on board, and, by all sea-canons, they are 
invariable Jonahs. One of these gentlemen, by the way, is an 
abolitionist, on a begging crusade for a school devoted to the 



134 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



amalgam of color, and very much to the amusement of the 

passengers, he met the steward's usual demand for a fee with 

an application for a contribution to the funds of his society ! 

His expectations from British sympathy are large, for he is 

accompanied b^y a lay brother " used to keeping accounts," 

whose sole errand is to record the golden results of his friend's 

„ eloquence. But " eight bells" warn me to bed ; so when I 

have recorded the good qualities of the Gladiator, which are 

many, and those of her captain, which are more, I will put 

out my sea lamp for the last time, and get into my premonitory 

11 six feet by two." 

* * * * # * * 

The George Inn, Portsmouth. — This is a morning in which 
(under my circumstances) it would be difficult not to be 
pleased with the entire world. A fair day in June, newly 
from sea, and with a journey of seventy miles before me on a 
swift coach, through rural England, is what I call a programme 
of a pleasant day. Determined not to put myself in the way 
of a disappointment, I accepted, without the slightest hesita- 
tion, on landing at the wharf, the services of an elderly gentle- 
man in shabby black, who proposed to stand between me and 
all my annoyances of the morning. He was to get my bag- 
gage through the customs, submit for me to all the inevitable 
impositions of tide waiters, secure my place in the coach, be- 
speak me a fried sole and green peas, and sum up his services, 
all in one short phrase of/, s. d. So putting my temper into 
my pocket, and making up my mind to let roguery take the 
wall of me for one day unchallenged, I mounted to the grassy 
ramparts of the town to walk off the small remainder of sea- 
air from my stomach, and admire everything that came in 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 135 



my way. I would recommend to all newly landed passengers 
from the packets to step up and accept of the sympathy of the 
oaks of the " kings bastion" in their disgust for the sea. Those 
sensible trees, leaning toward the earth, and throwing out their 
boughs as usual to the landward, present to the seaward expo 
sure ii turned-up and gnarled look of nausea and disgust 
which is as expressive to the commonest observer as a sick 
man's first look at his bolus. 1 have great affinity with trees, 
and I believe implicitly, that what is disagreeable to the tree 
can not be pleasant to the man. The salt air is not so corro- 
sive here as in the Mediterranean, where the leaves of the olive 
are eaten off" entirely on the side toward the sea ; but it is quite 
enough to make a sensible tree turn up its nose, and in that 
attitude stands most expressively every oak on the " king's 
bastion." 

The first few miles out of Portsmouth form one long alley 
of ornamented cottages — wood-bine creeping and roses flower- 
ing over them all. If there were but two between Portsmouth 
and London — two even of the meanest we saw — a traveller 
from any other land would think it w r orth his while to de- 
scribe them minutely. As there are two thousand (more or 
less,) they must pass with a bare mention. Yet I became 
conscious of a new feeling in seeing these rural paradises ; and 
I record it as the first point in which I find myself worse for 
having become a " dweller in the shade." I was envious. 
Formerly, in passing a tasteful retreat, or a fine manor, I 
could say, " What a bright lawn ! What a trim and fragrant 
hedge ! What luxuriant creepers ! I congratulate their for- 
tunate owner !" Now it is, " How I wish I had that hedge 



13 6 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

at Glenmary ! How I envy these people their shrubs, trellices, 
and flowers !" I wonder not a little how the English Emi- 
grant can make a home among our unsightly stumps that cant 
ever breed a forgetfulness of all these refined ruralities. 

After the first few miles, I discovered that the two windows 
of the coach were very limited frames for the rapid succes- 
sion of pictures presented to my eye, and changing places with 
William, who was on the top of the coach, I found myself be- | 
tween two tory politicians setting forth to each other most elo- 
quently the mal-administration of the whigs and the queen's i| 
mismanagement. As I was two months behind the English 
news I listened with some interest. They made out to their • 
own satisfaction that the queen was a silly girl ; that she had 
been caught in a decided fib about Sir Robert Peel's exactions 
with respect to the household ; and one of the Jeremiahs, who 
seemed to be a sturdy grazier, said that " in 'igh life the queen- 
dowager's 'ealth was now received uniwersally with three 
times three, while Victoria's was drank in solemn silence." 
Her majesty received no better treatment at the hands of a 
whig on the other end of the seat; and as we whirled under 
the long park fence of Claremont, the country palace of Leo- 
pold and the Princess Charlotte, he took the pension of the 
Belgian king for the burden of his lamentation, and, between 
whig and tory, England certainly seemed to be in a bad 
wa}^. This Claremont, it will be remembered by the 
readers of D'Israeli's novels, is the original of the picture of 
the luxurious maison cle plaisance, drawn in " the Young 
Duke." 

"We got glimpses of the old palace at Esher, of Hampton 
Court, of Pitt's country seat at Putney, and of Jane P orter's 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 13? 



cottage at Esher, and in the seventh hour from leaving Ports- 
mouth (seventy-four miles) we found the vehicles thickening, 
the omnibuses passing, the blue-coated policemen occurring at 
short intervals, and the roads delightfully watered — symptoms 
of suburban London. We skirted the privileged paling of 
Hyde Park ; and I could see, over the rails", the flying and gay 
colored equipages, the dandy horsemen, the pedestrian ladies 
followed by footmen with their gold sticks, the fashionable 
throng, in short, which, separated by an iron barrier from all 
contact with unsightliness and vulgarity, struts its hour in this 
green cage of aristocracy. 

Around the triumphal arch opposite the duke of Welling- 
ton's was assembled a large crowd of carriages and horsemen. 
The queen was coming from Buckingham palace through 
the Green park, and they were waiting for a glimpse of Her 
Majesty on horseback. The Regulator whirled mercilessly on ; 
but far down, through the long avenues of trees, I could see 
a movement of scarlet liveries, and a party coming rapidly to- 
ward us on horseback. We missed the Queen by a couple of 
minutes. 

It was just the hour when all London is abroad, and Picca- 
dilly was one long cavalcade of splendid equipages on their 
way to the park. I remembered many a face, and many a 
crest; but either the faces had beautified in my memory, or 
three years had done time's pitiless work on them all. Near 
Devonshire house I saw, fretting behind the slow-moving press 
of vehicle, a pair of magnificent and fiery blood horses, drawing 
a coach, which, though quite new, was of a color and picked 
out with a peculiar stripe that was familiar to my eye. The 
next glance convinced me that the livery was that of Lady 



138 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



Blessington ; but, for the light chariot in which she used to 
drive, here was a stately coach — for the one tall footman, two 
— for the plain but elegant harness, a sumptuous and superb 
caparison — the whole turn-out on a scale of splendor unequal- 
led by anything around us. Another moment decided the 
doubt — for as w T e &ime against the carriage, following, our- 
selves, an embarrassed press of vehicles, her ladyship appeared, 
leaning back in the corner with her wrists crossed, the same 
in the grace of her attitude and the elegance of her toilet, but 
stouter, more energetic, and graver in the expression of her 
face, than I ever remembered to have seen her. From the top 
of the stage coach I looked, unseen, directly down upon her, 
and probably got, by chance, a daylight and more correct view 
of her countenance than I should obtain in a year of opera and, 
drawing-room observation. Tired and dusty, we were turned 
from hotel to hotel, all full and overflowing; and finding at last 
a corner at Ragget's in Dover street, we dressed, dined, and 
posted to Woolwich. Unexpected and mournful news closed 

our first day in England with tears. 

* * ****** 

I drove up to London the second day after our arrival, and 
having a little " Grub-street" business, made my way to the 
the purlieus of publishers, Paternoster row. If you could ima- 
gine a paper-mine, with a very deep cut shaft laid open to the 
surface of the earth, you might get some idea of Ivy lane. 
One walks along through its dim subterranean light, with no 
idea of breathing the proper atmosphere of day and open air. 
A strong smell of new books in the nostrils, and one long 
stripe of blue sky much farther off than usual, are the predom- 
inant impressions. 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. j 39 



From the dens of the publishers, I wormed my way through 
the crowds of Cheapside and the Strand, toward that part of 
London, which, as Horace Smith says, is " open at the top." 
Something in the way of a ship's fender, to save the hips and 
elbows would sell well, I should think, to pedestrians in Lon- 
don. What crowds, to be sure ! On a Sunday, in New 
York, when all the churches are pouring forth their congrega- 
tions at the same moment, you have seen a faint image of the 
Strand. The style of the hack cabriolets is very much chang- 
ed since I was in London. The passenger sits about as high 
up from the ground as he would in a common chair — the body 
of the vehicle suspended from the axle instead of being placed 
upon it, and the wheels very high. The driver's seat would 
suit a sailor, for it answers to the ship's tiller, well astern. 
He whips over the passenger's head. I saw one or two pri- 
vate vehicles built on this principle, certainly one of safety, 
though they have something the beauty of a prize hog. 

The new National Gallery in Trafalgar square, not finished 
when I left England, opened upon me as I entered Charing 
Cross, with what I could not but feel was a very line effect, 
though critically, its " pepper-boxity" is not very creditable to 
4;he architect. Fine old Northumberland house, with its stern 
lion atop on one side, the beautiful Club house on the other, 
St. Martin's noble church and the Gallery — with such a fine 
opening in the very cor cordium of London, could not fail of 
producing a noble metropolitan view. 

The street in front of the gallery was crowded with car- 
riages, showing a throng of visiters within ; and mounting the 
imposing steps, (the loftiness of the vestibule dropping plump 
as I paid my shilling entrance,) I found myself in a hall whose 



j40 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



extending lines of pillars ran through the entire length of th< 
building, offering to the eye a truly noble perspective. Ofl 
from this hall, to the right and left, lay the galleries of antiquJ 
and modern paintings, and the latter were crowded with tho 
fair and fashionable mistresses of the equipages without 
You will not care to be bothered with criticism on pictures 
and mine was a cursory glance — but a delicious, full-lengtl 
portrait of a noble lady by Grant, whose talent is now makml 
some noise in London, a glorious painting of Van Amburgi it 
among his lions by Edwin Landseer, and a portrait of Miss 
Pardoe in a Turkish costume with her pretty feet coiled unde; 
her on a Persian carpet, by Pickersgill, are among those I re 
member. I found a great many acquaintances in the gallery; 
and I was sitting upon a bench with a lady, who pointed ouii 
to me a portrait of Lord Lyndhurst in his chancellor's wn 
and robes — a very line picture of a man of sixty or thereabouts: 
Directly between me and it, as I looked, sidled a person witt 
his back to me, cutting off my view very provokingly. " Whei- 
this dandy gets out of the way with his eyeglass," said I, " . 
shall be able to see the picture." My friend smiled. " Whc 
do you take the dandy to be ?" It was a well formed man 
dressed in the top of the fashion with very straight back, curling 
brown hair, and the look of perhaps thirty years of age. Aj 
he passed on and I caught his profile, I saw it was Lore 
Lyndhurst himself. 

# # # # . * 

I had not seen Taglioni since the first representation of th( 
Sylphide, eight or nine years ago at Paris. Last night I was 
at the opera, and saw her in La Gitana ; and except that her 
limbs are the least in the world rounder and fuller, she is, in 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. ]4l 



person, absolutely unchanged. I can appreciate now, better 
than I could then (when opera dancing was new to me,) what 
it is that gives this divine woman the right to her proud title 
of La Decsse dc la Danse. It is easy for the Ellslers and 
Augusta, and others who are said to be only second to her, to 
copy her flying steps, and even to produce by elasticity of 
limb, the beautiful effect of touching the earth, like a thing- 
afloat, without being indebted to it for the rebound. ButTag- 
lioni alone finishes the step, or the pirouette, or the arrowy 
bound over the scene, as calmly, as accurately, as faultlessly, 
as she begins it. She floats out of a pirouette as if instead of 
being made giddy, she had been lulled by it into a smiling 
and child-like dream, and instead of trying herself and her 
o. plomb (as is seen all other dancers, by their effort to recover 
composure,) it had been the moment when she had rallied and 
been refreshed. The smile, so expressive of enjoyment in her 
own grace, which steals over Taglioni's lips when she closes 
a difficult step, seems communicated in an indefinable languor, 
to her limbs. You cannot fancy her fatigued when, with her 
peculiar softness of motion, she courtesies to the applause of 
an enchanted audience, and walks lightly away. You are never 
apprehensive that she has undertaken too much. You never 
detect as you do in all other dancers, defects slurred over 
adroitly and movements that, from their anticipating the music 
of the ballet, are known by the critical eye to cover some flaw 
in the step, from giddiness or loss of balance. But oh what a 
! new relation bears the music to the dance, when this spirit of 
| grace replaces her companions in the ballet ! "Whether the 
motion seems born of the music, or the music floats out of her 



1 4 2 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



dreamy motion, the enchanted gazer might be almost em bar- 
rassed to know. 

In the new ballet of La Gitana, the music is based upon 
the Mazurka. The story is the old one of the child of a 
grandee of Spain, stolen by gipsies, and recovered by chance 
in Russia. The gradual stealing over her of music she had 
heard in her childhood was the finest piece of pantomimic act- 
ing I ever saw. But there is one dance, the Cachucha, intro- 
duced at the close of the ballet, in which Taglioni has en- 
chanted the world anew. It could only be done by herself; 
for there is a succession of flying movements expressive of 
alarm, in the midst of which she alights and stands poised up- 
on the points of her feet, with a look over her shoulder of 
Jierte and animation possible to no other face, I think, in the: 
world. It was like a deer standing with expanded nostril and 
neck uplifted to its loftiest height, at the first scent of his pur- 
suers in the breeze. It was the very soul of swiftness embodied 

in a look ! How can I describe it to you ? 

* * * * * * * 

My last eight hours have been spent between Bedlam and 
the opera — one of those antipodal contrasts of which London 
life affords so many. Thanks to God, and to the Howards 
who have arizen in our time, a madhouse is no longer the heart- 
rending scene that it used to be ; and Bedlam, though a place 
of melancholy imprisonment, is as cheering a spectacle to the 
humane as imprisonment can be made by care and kindness. 
Of the three hundred persons who are inmates of its wards, 
the greater part seemed quiet and content, some playing at: 
ball in the spacious court-yards, some lying on the grass, and 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 



143 



some working voluntarily at a kind of wheel arranged for 
raising water to their rooms. 

On the end of. a bench in one of the courts, quite apart 
from the other patients, sat the youth who came up two hun- 
dred miles from the country to marry the queen ! You will 
[remember the story of his forcing himself into Buckingham 
ace. He was a stout, sandy-haired, sad-looking young 
man, of perhaps twenty-four; and with his arms crossed, and 
his eyes on the ground, he sat like a statue, never moving 
even an eyelash while we were there. There was a very gentle- 
manlike man working at the waterwheel, or rather walking 
round with his hand on the bar, in a gait that would have 
suited the most finished exquisite of a drawing room — Mr. 
Davis, who shot (I think) at Lord Londonderry. Then in an 
; upper room we saw the Captain Brown who shook his fist in 
I the queen's face when she went to the city — really a most 
officer-like and handsome fellow ; and in the next room poor 
old Hatfield who shot at George the Third, and has been in 
Bedlam for forty years — quite sane! He was a gallant dra- 
goon, and his face is seamed with scars got in battle before 
his crime. He employs himself with writing poetry on the 
death of his birds and cats whom he has outlived in prison — 
all the society he has had in this long and weary imprisonment. 
He received us very courteously ; and called our attention to 
his favorite canary, showed us his poetry, and all with a sad, 
mild, subdued resignation that quite moved me. 

In the female wards I saw nothing very striking, except 
one very noble-looking woman who was standing at her grated 
window, entirely absorbed in reading the Bible. Her face 
expressed the most heart-rending melancholy I had ever 



144 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

witnessed. She has been for years under the terrible 
belief that she has committed " the unpardonable sin," and 
though quiet all the day, her agony at night becomes horrible. 
What a comment on a much practiced mode of preaching the 
mild and forgiving religion of our Savior ! 

As I was leaving one of the wards, a young woman of nine- 
teen or twenty came up to me with a very polite courtesy and 
said, " Will you be so kind as to have me released from this 
dreadful place ?" " I am afraid I can not," said I. " Then," 
she replied laying her hand on my arm, with a most appealing 
earnestness, " perhaps you will on Monday — you know I've 
nothing to pack !" The matron here interposed, and led her 
away, but she kept her eyes on us till the door closed. She 
was confined there for the murder of her child. 

We visited the kitchens, wash-houses, bakery, &c., &c. — all 
clean, orderly, and admirable, and left cur names on the visiters' 
book, quite of the opinion of a Frenchman who was there just 
before us, and who had written under his own name this 
expressive praise : — u J\d visite certains palais moins beaux ct 
mains bien entretenus que cette maison de lafolie." 

Two hours after I was listening to the overture of La Cen- 
erentola, and watching the entrance, to the opera, of the gay, 
the celebrated, and the noble. In the house I had left, night 
had brought with it (as it does always to the insane) a mad- 
dening and terrific exaltation of brain and spirit — but how dif- 
ferent from that exaltation of brain and spirit sought at the 
same hour by creatures of the same human family, at the opera ! 
It was difficult not to wonder at the distribution of allotments 
to mankind. In a box on the left of me sat the Queen, keep- 
ing time with a fan to the delicious singing of Pauline Garcia, 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 145 

her favorite minister standing behind her chair, and her maids 
of honor around — herself the smiling, youthful, and admired 
Sovereign of the most powerful nation on earth ! I thought 
of the poor girl in her miserable cell at Bedlam imploring 
release. 

The Queen's face has thinned and grown more oval since I 
saw her at a drawing room four years ago, as Princess Vic- 
toria. She has been compelled to think since then, and such 
exigencies, in all stations of life, work out the expression of 
the face. She has now what I should pronounce a decidedly 
intellectual countenance, a little petulant withal when she 
turns to speak, but on the whole quite beautiful enough for 
a virgin queen. No particular attention seemed paid to her 
by the audience. She was dressed less gayly than many 
others around her. Her box was at the left side of the house 
undistinguished by any mark of royalty, and a stranger would 
never have suspected her presence. 

Pauline Garcia sang better than I thought it possible for 
any one to sing after Malibran was dead. She has her sister's 
look about the forehead and eyes, and all her sister's soul and 
passionateness in her style of singing. Her face is otherwise 
very plain, but, plain as it is, the opera-going public prefer her 
already to the beautiful and more powerful Grisi. The latter 
long triumphant prima donna is said to be very unhappy 
at her eclipse by this new favorite; and it is curious 
enough to hear the hundred and one faults found in the de- 
clining songstress by those who once would riot admit that 
she could be transcended on earth. A very celebrated per- 
son, whom I remembered, when in London before, giving 
Grisi the most unqualified eulogy, assured the gay admirers in 



14 6 FAMOUS PERSONS AND FLACES. 






her box last night that she had always said that Grisi had 
nothing but lungs and fine eyes. She was a great healthy- 
Italian girl, and could sing in tune ; but soul or sentiment 
she never had ! Poor Grisi ! Hers is the lot of all who are 
so unhappy as to have been much admired. " Le inonde ne 
hait rieti aidant que ses idoles quand Us sont a terre" said the 

wise La Bruyere. 

******** 

Some of the most delightful events in one's travels are 
those which afford the least materiel for description", and such 

is our sejour of a few days at the vicarage of B . It 

was a venerable old house with pointed gables, elaborate and 
pointed windows, with panes of glass of the size of the palm 
of the hand, low doors, narrow staircases, all sorts of unsus- 
pected rooms and creepers outside, trellised and trained to 
every corner and angle. Then there was the modern wing, 
with library and dining room, large windows, marble fireplaces, 
and French paper ; and in going from your bedroom to break- 
fast you might fancy yourself stepping from Queen Eliza- 
beth's time to Queen Victoria's. A high hedge of holly 
divided the smoothly-shaven lawn from the churchyard, and in 
the midst of the moss-grown headstones stood a gray old 
church with four venerable towers, one of the most pictu- 
resque and beautiful specimens of the old English architect- 
ure that I have ever seen. The whole group, church, vicar- 
age, and a small hamlet of vine-covered and embowered stone 
cottages, lay in the lap of a gently rising sweep of hills, and 
all around were spread landscapes of the finished and serene 
character peculiar to England — rich fields framed in flowering 
hedges, clumps of forest trees glimpses of distant parks, 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. ^7 



country seats, and "village spires, and on the horizon a line of 
mist-clad hills, scarce ever more distinct than the banks of 
low-lying clouds retiring after a thunder storm in America. 

Early on Sunday morning we were awakened by the mel- 
ody of the bells in the old towers ; and with brief pauses be- 
tween the tunes, they were played upon most musically, till 
the hour for the morning services. We have little idea in 
America of the perfection to which the chiming of bells is car- 
ried in England. In the towers of this small rural church are 
hung eight bells of different tone, and the tunes played on 
them by the more accomplished ringers of the neighboring 
hamlet are varied endlessly. I lay and listened to the simple 
airs as they died away over the valley, with a pleasure I can 
scarcely express. The morning was serene and bright, the 
perfume of the clematis and jasmine flowers at the window 
penetrated to the curtains of my bed, and Sunday seemed to 
have dawned with the audible worship and palpable incense 
of nature. We were told at breakfast that the chimes had 
been unusually merry, and were a compliment to ourselves, 
the villagers always expressing thus their congratulations on 
the arrival of guests at the vicarage. The compliment was 
repeated between services, and a very long peal rang in the 
twilight— our near relationship to the vicar's family authorizing 
a very special rejoicing. 

The interior of the church was very ancient looking and 
rough, the pews of unpainted oak, and the massive stone walls 
simply whitewashed. The congregation was small, perhaps 
fifty persons, and the men were (with two exceptions) dressed 
in russet carters' frocks, and most of them in leather leggins. 
The children sat on low benches placed in the centre of the one 



148 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



aisle, and the boys, like their fathers, were in smock frocks of 
homespun, their heavy shoes shod with iron like horses' hoofs, 
and their little legs buttoned up in the impenetrable gaiters of 
coarse leather. They looked, men and boys, as if they were 
intended to wear but one suit in this world. 

I was struck with the solemnity of the service, and the dec- 
orous attention of men, women, and children, to the responses. 
[t was a beautiful specimen of simple and pastoral worship. 
JEach family had the name of their farm or place of residence 
printed on the back of the pew, with the number of seats to 
which they were entitled, probably in proportion to their tithes. 
The " living" is worth, if I remember right, not much over a 
hundred pounds — an insufficient sum to support so luxurious 
a vicarage as is appended to it ; but, happily for the people, 
the vicar chances to be a man of fortune, and he unites in his 
excellent character the exemplary pastor with the physician 

and lord of the manor. I left B with the conviction 

that if peace, contentment, and happiness, inhabit one spot 
more than all others in a world whose allotments are so diffi- 
cult to estimate, it is the vicarage in the bosom of that rural 

upland. 

* * ****** 

We left B at twelve in the Brighton " Age"— the 

" swell coach" of England. We were to dine thirty miles 

nearer London, at Park, and we did the distance in 

exactly three hours, including a stop of fifteen minutes to dine. 
We are abused by all travellers for our alacrity in dining on 
the road ; but what stage coach in the United States ever 
limited its dining time to fifteen minutes, and what American 
dinner of roast, pastry, and cheese, was ever dispatched so 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 14g 

briefly ? Yet the travellers to Brighton are of the better class ; 
and whose who were my fellow passengers the day I refer to 
were particularly well dressed and gentlemanly — yet all of 
them achieved a substantial dinner of beef, pudding, and cheese, 
paid their bills, and drained their glass of porter, within the 
quarter of an hour. John Bull's blindness to the beam in his 
own eye is perhaps owing to the fact that this hasty meal is 
sometimes called a " lunch !" 

The tivo places beside our own in the inside were occupied 
by a lad}' and her maid and two children — an interpretation 
of number two to which I would not have agreed if I could 
have helped it. We cannot always tell at first sight what 
will be most amusing, however ; and the child of two years, 
who sprawled over my rheumatic knees with her mother's per- 
mission, thereby occasioning on my part a most fixed look out 
of the window, furnished me with a curious bit of observation. 
At one of the commons we passed, the children running out 
from a gipsy encampment flung bunches of heath flowers into 
the coach, which the little girl appropriated, and commenced 
presenting rather graciously to her mother, the maid, and Mrs. 
"W., all of whom received them with smiles and thanks. Hav- 
ing rather a sulky face of my own when not particularly called 
on to be pleased, the child omitted me for a long time in her 
distributions. At last, after collecting and redistributing the 
flowers for above an hour, she grew suddenly grave, laid the 
heath all out upon her lap, selected the largest and brightest 
flowers, and made them into a nosegay. My attention was 
attracted by the seriousness of the child's occupation ; and I 
was watching her without thinking my notice observed, when 
she raised her eyes to me timidly, turned her new boquet over 



j 50 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

and over, and at last, with a blush, deeper than I ever saw 
before upon a child, placed the flowers in my hand and hid 
her face in her mother's bosom. My sulkiness gave way, of 
course, and the little coquette's pleasure in her victory was 
excessive. For the remainder of the journey, those who had 
given her their smiles too readily were entirely neglected, and 
all her attentions were showered upon the only one she had 
found it difficult to please. I thought it as pretty a specimen 
of the ruling passion strong in baby-hood as I ever saw. It 
was a piece of finished coquetry in a child not old enough to 
speak plain. 

The coachman of" the Age" was a young man of perhaps 
thirty, who is understood to have run through a considerable 
fortune, and drives for a living — but he was not at all the sort 
of looking person you would fancy for a " swell whip." He 
drove beautifully, helped the passengers out and in, lifted their 
baggage, &c, very handily, but evidently shunned notice, and 
had no desire to chat with the "outsides." The excessive 
difficulty in England of finding any clean way of making a 
living after the initiatory age is passed — a difficulty which re- 
duced gentlemen feel most keenly — probably forced this per- 
son as it has others to take up a vocation for which the world 
fortunately finds an excuse in eccentricity. He touches his 
hat for the half crown or shilling, although probably if it were 
offered to him when the whip was out of his hand he would 
knock the giver down for his impertinence. I may as well 
record here, by the way, for the benefit of those who may wish 
to know a comparison between the expense of travelling here 
and at home, for two inside places for thirty miles the coach 
fare was two pounds, and the coachman's fee five shillings, or 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 151 



half-a-crown each inside. To get from the post town to 

Park (two miles) cost me five-and-sixpence for a " fly," so that 
for thirty -two miles travel I paid 21. 10s. 6d., a little more than 
twelve dollars. 

And speaking of vocations, it would be a useful lesson to 
some of our ambitious youths to try a beginning at getting a 
living in England. I was never at all aware of the difficulty 
of finding even bread and salt for a young man till I had 
occasion lately to endeavor to better the condition of a servant 
of my own — a lad who has been with me four or five years, 
and whose singular intelligence, good principle and high self- 
improvement, fitted him, I thought, for any confidential trust 
or place whatever.* His own ideas, too (I thought, not un- 
reasonably,) had become somewhat sublimated in America, 
and he was unwilling to continue longer as a servant. He 
went home to his mother, a working woman of London, and I 
did my utmost, the month I was in town, inquiring among all 
classes of my friends, advertising, &c, to find him any possi- 
ble livelihood above menial service. I was met everywhere 
with the same answer ; " There are hundreds of gentleman ? s 
sons wearing out their youth in looking for the same thing." 
I was told daily that it was quite in vain — that apprentice- 
ships were as much sought as clerkships, and that every 
avenue to the making of a sixpence was overcrammed and in- 
accessible. My boy and his mother at last came to their 
senses ; and, consenting to apply once more for a servant's 
place, he was fortunate enough to engage as valet to bachelor, 
and is now gone with his new master on a tour to France. 
As Harding the painter said to me, when he returned after 

* I can record — now fifteen years after — that, in six years from that 
time, he had become the conductor of a Scientific Review, in London 



152 FAMOUS PERSONS AND TLACES. 



his foreign trip ; " England is a great place to take the non- 
sense out of people." 

* * ****** 

When London shall have become the Rome or Athens of 
a fallen empire (qu. will it ever ?) the termini of the railways 
will be among its finest ruins. That of the Birmingham and 
Liverpool track is almost as magnificent as that flower of 
sumptuousness, the royal palace of Caserta, near Naples. It 
is really an impressive scene simply to embark for " Brumma- 
gem;" and there is that utility in all this showy expenditure 
for arch, gateway, and pillar, that no one is admitted but the 
passenger, and you are refreshingly permitted to manage your 
baggage, &c. without the assistance of a hundred blackguards 
at a shilling each. Then there are " ladies' waiting-rooms," 
and " gentlemen's waiting-rooms," and attached to them every 
possible convenience, studiously clean and orderly. I wish 
the president and directors of the Utica and other American 
railroads would step over and take a sumptuary hint. 

The cars are divided into stalls, i. e. each passenger is 
cushioned off by a stuffed partition from his neighbor's shoul- 
der, and sleeps without offence or encroachment. When they 
are crowded, that is. an admirable arrangement ; but I have 
found it very comfortable in long journeys in America to take 
advantage of an empty car, and stretch myself to sleep along 
the vacant seat. Here, full or empty, you can occupy but 
your upright place. In every car are suspended lamps to 
give light during the long passages through the subterranean 
tunnels. 

We rolled from under the Brobdiguag roof of the terminus, as 
the church of Mary-le-bone (Cockney for Marie-la-bonne, but 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 

loo 

so carved on tha frieze) struck six. Our speed was increased 
presently to thirty miles in the hour ; and with the exception 
of thp slower rate in passing the tunnels, and the slackening 
and getting under way at the different stations, this rate was 
kept up throughout. We arrived at Liverpool (205 miles or 
upward) at three o'clock, our stoppages having exceeded an 
hour altogether 

1 thought toward the end, that all this might be very plea- 
sant with a consignment of buttons or an errand to Gretna 
Green. But for the pleasure of the thing I would as lief sit 
in an arm chair and see bales of striped green silk unfolded 
for eight hours as travel the same length of time by the rail- 
road. (I have described in this simile exactly the appearance 
of the fields as you see them in flying past.) The old women and 
cabbages gain by it, perhaps, for you cannot tell whether they 
are not girls and roses. The washerwoman at her tub follows 
the lady on the lawn so quickly that you confound the two 
irresistibly — the thatched cottages look like browsing donkeys, 
and the browsing donkeys like thatched cottages — you ask 
the name of a town, and by the time you get up your finger you 
point at a spot three miles off — in short, the salmon well packed 
in straw on the top of the coach, and called fresh fish after 
a journey of 200 miles, sees quite as much of the country as 
his most intellectual fellow-passenger. I foresee in all this a 
new distinction in phraseology. " Have you travelled in Eng- 
land ?" will soon be a question having no reference to rail- 
roads. The winding turnpike and cross-roads, the coaches 
and post carriages, will be resumed by all those who consider 
the sense of sight as useful in travel, and the bagmen and 
7* 



1 54 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



letter-bags will have almost undisputed possession of the rail- 
cars. 

The Adelphi is the Astor house of Liverpool, a very large 
and showy hotel near the terminus of the railway. We were 
shown into rather a magnificent parlor on our arrival ; and 
very hungry with rail-roading since six in the morning, we 
ordered dinner at their earliest convenience. It came after a 
full hour, and we sat down to four superb silver covers, anti- 
cipating a meal corresponding to the stout person and pomp- 
ous manners of the fattest waiter I have seen in my travels- 
The grand cover was removed with a flourish and disclosed — 
divers small bits of second hand beefsteak, toasted brown and 
warped at the corners by a second fire; and, on the removal of 
the other three silver pagodas, our eyes were gratified by a dish 
of peas that had been once used for green soup, three similarly 
toasted and warped mutton chops, and three potatoes. Quite 
incredulous of the cook's intentions, I ventured to suggest to 
the waiter that he had probably mistaken the tray and brought 
us the dinner of some sportsman's respectable brace of point- 
ers; but on being assured that there were no dogs in the cel- 
lar, I sent word to the master of the house that we had rather 
a preference for a dinner new and hot, and would wait till he 
could provide it. Half an hour more brought up the land- 
lord's apologies and a fresh and hot beefsteak, followed by a 
tough crusted apple-pie, custard, and cheese — and with a bot- 
tle of Moselle which was good, we finished our dinner at one 
of the most expensive and showy hotels in England. The 
manners and fare at the American hotels being always de- 
scribed as exponents of civilization by English travellers, I 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. ]55 

shall be excused for giving a counter-picture of one of the most 
boasted of their own. 

Regretting exceedingly that the recent mourning of my two 
companions must prevent their presence at the gay festivities 
of Eglington, I put them on board the steamer, bound on a 
visit to relatives in Dublin, and returned to the Adelphi to wait 
en garcon for the Glasgow steamer of Monday. My chamber 
is a large and well-furnished room, with windows looking out 
on the area shut in by the wings of the house ; and I must 
make you still more contented at the Astor, by describing what 
is going on below at this moment. It is half-past eight, and 
a Sunday morning. All the bells of the house, it seems to me, 
are ringing, most of them very impatiently, and in the area 
before the kitchen windows are six or eight idle waiters, and 
four or five female scullions, playing, quarrelling, scolding and 
screaming; the language of both men and women more profane 
and indecent than anything I have ever before chanced to hear, 
and every word audible in every room in this quarter of the 
hotel. This has been going on since six this morning ; and I 
seriously declare I do not think I ever heard as much indecent 
conversation in my life as for three mortal hours must have 
" murdered sleep" for every lady and gentleman lodged on 
the rear side of the " crack hotel" of Liverpool. 

Sick of the scene described above, I went out just now to 
take a turn or two in my slippers in the long entry. Up and 
down, giving me a most appealing stare whenever we met, daw- 
dled also the fat waiter who served up the cold victuals of 
yesterday. He evidently had some errand with me, but what 
I did not immediately fathom. At last he approached— 

" You — a — got your things, sir ?" 



156 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



" What things ?" 

" The stick and umbrella, I carried to your bedroom, sir ?" 

"Yes, thank you," and I resumed my walk. 

The waiter resumed his, and presently approached again. 

« You — a — don't intend to use the parlor again, sir ?" 

" No : I have explained to the master of the house that I 
shall breakfast in the coffee-room." And again I walked on. 

My friend began again at the next turn. 

" You — a — pay for those ladies' dinner yourself, sir ?" 

" Yes." I walked on once more. 

Once more approaches my fat incubus, and with a twirl of 
the towel in his hand looks as if he would fain be delivered of 
something. 

" Why the d — 1 am I badgered in this way ?" I stormed 
out at last, losing patience at his stammering hesitation, and 
making a move to get round the fat obstruction and pursue 
my walk. 

" Will you — a — remember the waiter, if you please, sir ?" 

" Oh ! I was not aware that I was to pay the waiter at every 
meal. I generally do it when I leave the house. Perhaps 
you'll be kind enough to let me finish my walk, and trust me 
till to-morrow morning ?" 

P. S. Evening in the coffee-room. — They say the best begin- 
ning in love is a decided aversion, and badly as I began at 
Liverpool, I shall always have a tender recollection of it for the 
unequalled luxury of its baths. A long and beautiful Grecian 
building crests the head of George's pier, built by the corpora- 
tion of Liverpool, and devoted exclusively to salt-water baths. 
I walked down in the twilight to enjoy this refreshing luxury, 
and it being Sunday evening, I was shown into the ladies' end 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 157 

of the building. The room where I waited till the bath was 
prepared was a lofty and finely proportioned apartment, ele- 
gantly furnished, and lined with superbly bound books and 
pictures, the tables covered with engravings, and the 
whole looking like a central apartment in a nobleman's resi- 
dence. A boy showed me presently into a small drawing- 
room, to which was attached a bath closet, the two rooms 
lined, boudoir fashion, with chintz, a clock over the bath, a 
nice carpet and stove, in short, every luxury possible to such 
an establishment. I asked the boy if the gentlemen's baths were 
as elegant as these. " Oh yes," he said : u there are two splen- 
did pictures of Niagara Falls and Catskill." "Who painted 
them?" "Mr. Wall." "And whose are they?" "They 
belong to our father, sir !" I made up my mind that " our 

father" was a man of taste and a credit to Liverpool. 

******** 

I have just returned from the dinner given to Macready 
at the Freemason's tavern. The hall, so celebrated for public 
" feeds," is a beautiful room of a very showy style of archi- 
tecture, with three galleries, and a raised floor at the end, 
usually occupied by the cross-table. It accomodated on this 
occasion four hundred persons. 

From the peculiar object of the meeting to do honor to an 
actor for his intellectual qualities, and for his efforts to spiritual- 
ize and elevate the stage, there probably never was collected to- 
gether in one room so much talent and accomplishment. Artists, 
authors, critics, publishers and amateurs of the stage — a large 
body in London — made up the company. My attention was 
called by one of my neighbors to the singularly superior 
character of the heads about us. and I had already observed tbo 



1 58 FAMOUS PEHSONS AND PLACES. 

striking difference, both in head and physiognomy, between 
this and a common assemblage of men. Most of the persons 
connected with the press, it was said, were present; and per- 
haps it would have been a worthy service to the world had 
some shorn Samson, among the authors, pulled the temple 
upon the heads of the Philistines. 

The cry of " make way !" introduced the duke of Sussex, 
the chairman of the meeting — a stout, mild-looking, dignified 
old man, wearing a close black scull-cap and the star and riband. 
He was followed by Lord Conyngham, who, as grand cham- 
berlain, had done much to promote the interest of the drama ; 
by Lord Nugent (whom I had last seen sailing a scampavici 
in the bay of Corfu,) by Sir Lytton Bulwer, Mr. Sheil, Sir 
Martin Shee, Young, the actor, Mr. Milnes, the poet, and 
other distinguished men. I should have said, by the way, Mr. 
Macready followed next his Royal Highness. 

The cheering and huzzas, as this procession walked up the 
room, were completely deafening. Macready looked deadly 
pale and rather overcome; and amid the waving of handker- 
chiefs and the stunning uproar of four hundred " gentlemen 
and scholars," the Duke placed the tragedian at his right hand, 
and took his seat before the turbot. 

The dinner was an uncommonly bad one ; but of this I had 
been forewarned, and so had taken a provisory chop at the 
club. I had leisure, therefore, to look about me, and truly 
there was work enough for the eyes. M 's head inter- 
ested me more than any one's else, for it was the personifica- 
tion of his lofty, liberal, and poetic genius. His hair,- which 
was long and profuse, curled in tendrils over the loftiest fore- 
head ; but about the lower part of the face lay all the charac- 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 159 



teristics which go to make up a voluptuous yet generous, au 
enthusiastic and fiery, yet self-possessed and well-directed 
character. He was excessively handsome ; yet it was the 
beauty of Massaniello, or Salvator Eosa, with more of intellect 
than both together. All in all, I never saw a finer face for an 
artist; and judging from his looks and from his works (he is 
perhaps twenty-four,) I would stake my sagacity on a bold 
prophecy of his greatness. 

On the same side were the L s, very quiet-looking men, 

and S ■ the portrait painter, a merry looking grenadier, and 

L B the poet, with a face like a poet. Near me was 

Lover, the painter, poet, novelist, song and music writer, dra- 
matist, and good fellow — seven characters of which his friends 
scarce know in which he is most excellent — and he has a round 
Irish face, with a bright twinkle in his eye, and a plump little 
body which carries off all his gifts as if they were no load at 

all. — And on my left was S , the glorious painter of Venice, 

of the battle of Trafalgar, the unequalled painter of the sea in 
all its belongings ; and you would take him for a gallant lieu- 
tenant of the navy, and with the fire of a score of battles asleep 
in his eye, and the roughening of a hundred tempests in his 
cheek. A franker and more manly face would not cross your 
eye in a year's travel. 

Mr. J was just beyond, a tall, sagacious looking good 

humored person of forty-five. He was a man of very kind 
manners, and was treated with great marks of liking and re- 
spect by all about him. But directly opposite to me sat so 
exact a picture of Paul Pry as he is represented on the stage, 
particulary of my friend Finn in that character, that it was 
difficult not to smile in looking at him. To my surprise, I 



J 60 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



heard some one point him out, soon after, as the well-known 
original in that character — the gentleman, whose peculiarities 
of person, as well as manners, were copied in the farce of Mr. 
Poole. " That's my name — what's yours ?" said he the mo 
ment after he had seated himself, thrusting his card close to 
to the nose of the gentleman next him. I took it of course for 
a piece of fun between two very old friends, but to my aston- 
ishment the gentleman next him was as much astonished as I. 

The few servants scattered up and down were deaf to every- 
thing but calls for champagne (furnished only at an extra 
charge when called for — a very mean system for a public din- 
ner by the way,) and the wines on the table seemed selected 
to drive one to champagne or the doctor. Each person had 
four plates, and when used, they were to be put under the 
bench, or on the top of your head, or to be sat upon, or what 
you would except to be taken away, and the soup and fish, 
and the roast and boiled and all, having been put on together, 
was all removed at one fell swoop — the entire operation of 
dinner having lasted just twenty-Jive minutes. Keep this fact 
till we are recorded by some new English traveller as the most 
expeditious eaters in Christendom. 

Here end my croakings, however, for the speeches com- 
menced directly, and admirable they were. To the undoing 
of much prejudice got by hearsay, I listened to Bulwer. He 
is, beyond all comparison, the most graceful and effective 
speaker I ever heard in England. All the world tells you that 
he makes signal failures in oratory — yet he rose, when his 
health was drank, and, in self-possessed, graceful, unhesitating 
language, playful, yet dignified, warm, yet not extravagant, he 
replied to the compliments of His Eoyal Highness, and brought 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. lgl 



forward his plan (as you have seen it reported in the news- 
papers) for the erection of a new theatre for the legitimate 
drama and Macready. I remember once hearing that Bulwer 
had a belief in his future eminence as an orator — and I would 
■arrant his warmest anticipations in that career of ambition. 
He is a better speaker than Sheil, who followed him, and Sheil 
is renowned as an orator. Really there is nothing like one's 
own eyes and ears in this world of envy and misrepresentation. 

D sat near Sheil, at the cross table, very silent, as is his 

custom and that of most keen observers. The courtly Sir 
Martin Shea was near B , looking like some fine old pic- 
ture of a wit of Charles the second's time, and he and Y 

the actor made two very opposite and gentlemanlike speeches. 
I believe I have told you nearly all that struck me except what 
was reported in the gazettes, and that you have no need to 
read over again. I got away at eleven, and reached the opera 
in time to hear the last act of the Puritani, and see the Els- 
slers dance in the ballet, and with a look in at a ball, I conclu- 
ded one of those exhausting, exciting, overdone London days, 
which are pleasanter to remember than to enjoy, and pleasanter 

to read about than either. 

# # # # # 

One of the most elegant and agreeable persons I ever saw was 
Miss Jane Porter, and I think her conversation more delight- 
ful to remember than any person's I ever knew. A distin- 
guished artist told me that he remembered her when she was 
his beau-ideal of female beauty ; but in those days she was 
more " fancy-rapt," and gave in less to the current and spirit 
of society. Age has made her, if it may be so expressed, less 
selfish in her use of thought, and she pours it forth like 



162 FAMOUS PERSONS AND TLACES. 



Pactolus — that gold which is sand from others. She is still 
what I should call a handsome woman, or, if that be not al- 
lowed, she is the wreck of more than a common allotment 
of beauty, and looks it. Her person is remarkably erect, her 
eyes and eyelids (in this latter resembling Scott) very hea- 
vily moulded, and her smile is beautiful. It strikes me that it 
always is so — where it ever was. The smile seems to be the 
work of the soul. 

I have passed months under the same roof with Miss Porter, 
and nothing gave me more pleasure than to find the company 
in that hospitable house dwindled to a " fit audience though 
few," and gathered around the figure in deep mourning which 
occupied the warmest corner of the sofa. In any vein, and 
apropos to the gravest and the gayest subject, her well-stored 
mind and memory flowed forth in the same rich current of 
mingled story and reflection, and I never saw an impatient 
listener beside her. I recollect, one evening, a lady's singing 
" Auld Robin Gray," and some one remarking, (rather unsen- 

timentally) at the close, " By-the-by, what is Lady , 

(the authoress of the ballad) doing with so many carpenters. 
Berkely square is quite deafened with their hammering.' 

"Apropos of carpenters and Lady ," said Miss Porter— 

" this same charming ballad writer owes something to the 
craft. She was better-born than provided with the gifts of 
fortune, and in her younger days was once on a visit to a no- 
ble house, when to her dismay, a large and fashionable com- 
pany arrived, who brought with them a mania for private the- 
atricals. Her wardrobe was very slender, barely sufficient for 
the ordinary events of a week-day, and her purse contained 
one solitary shilling. To leave the house was out of the ques- 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 163 



lion, to feign illness as much so, and to decline taking a part 
vas impossible, for her talent and sprightliness were the hope 
K the theatre. A part was cast for her, and, in despair, she 
;xcused herself from the gay party bound to the country town 
10 make purchases of silk and satin, and shut herself up, a 
>rey to mortified low spirits. The character required a smart 
illage dress, and it certainly did not seem that it could come 
l»ut of a shilling. She sat at her window, biting her lips, and 
urning over in her mind whether she could borrow of some 
me, when her attention was attracted to a carpenter, who 
vas employed in the construction of a stage in the large hall, 
md who, in the court below, was turning off from his plane 
>road and long shavings of a peculiarly striped wood. It 
struck her that it was like riband. The next moment she 
vas below, and begged of the man to give her half a dozen 
engths as smooth as he could shave them. He performed his 
•ask well, and depositing them in her apartment, she set off 
done on horseback to the village, and with her single shilling 
succeeded in purchasing a chip hat of the coarsest fabric. She 
jarried it home, exultingly, trimmed it with her pine shavings, 
md on the evening of the performance appeared with a white 
Iress, and hat and belt ribands which were the envy of the 
audience. The success of her invention gave her spirits and 
assurance, and she played to admiration. The sequel will 
justify my first remark. She made a conquest on that night 
Df one of her titled auditors, whom she afterward married. — 

You will allow that Lady may afford to be tolerant of 

carpenters. " 

An eminent clergyman one evening became the subject of 
conversation, and a wonder was expressed that he had never 



164 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



married. " That wonder," said Miss Porter, " was once ex- 
pressed to the reverend gentleman himself, in my hearing, 
and he told a story in answer which I will tell you — and per- 
haps, slight as it may seem, it is the history of other hearts as 
sensitive and delicate as his own. Soon after his ordination, 
he preached once every Sabbath, for a clergyman in a village 
not twenty miles from London. Among his auditors, from 
Sunday to Sunday, he observed a young lady, who always | 
occupied a certain seat, and whose close attention began insen-il 
sibly to grow to him an object of thought and pleasure. Shei, 
left the church as soon as service was over, and it so chanced i| 
that he went on for a year without knowing her name; buti 
his sermon was never written without many a thought how. 
she would approve it, nor preached with satisfaction unless he ; 
read approbation in her face. Gradually he came to think on 
her at other times than when writing sermons, and to wish to i 
see her on other days than Sundays ; but the weeks slipped . 
on, and though he fancied she grew paler and thinner, he never 
brought himself to the resolution either to ask her name, or to 
seek to speak with her. By these silent steps, however, love^ 
had worked into his heart, and he had made up his mind to 
seek her acquaintance and marry her, if possible, when one 
day he was sent for to minister at a funeral. The face of the 
corpse was the same that had looked up to him Sunday after. 
Sunday, till he had learned to make it a part of his religion 
and his life. He was unable to perform the service, and ano- 
ther clergyman present officiated ; and after she was buried, 
her father took him aside, and begged his pardon for giving 
him pain — but he could not resist the impulse to tell him that 
his daughter had mentioned his name with her last breath, 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 165 



id he was afraid that a concealed affection for him had hur- 
ed her to the grave. Since that, said the clergyman in ques- 
on, my heart has been dead within me, and I look forward 
nly. I shall speak to her in heaven." 

* * ****** 

London is wonderfully embellished within the last three 
ears — not so much by new buildings, public or private, but 
y the almost insane rivalry that exists among the tradesmen 
) outshow each other in the expensive magnificence of their 
lops. When I was in England before, there were two or 
iree of these palaces of columns and plate-glass — a couple of 
lawl shops, and a glass warehouse or two, but now the west 
id and the city have each their scores of establishments, of 
hich you would think the plate glass alone would ruin any 
ody but Aladdin. After an absence of a month from town 
tely, I gave myself the always delightful treat of an after- 
inner ramble among the illuminated palaces of Regent street 
nd its neighborhood, and to my surprise found four new won- 
ers of this description — a shawl house in the upper Regent's 
ircus, a silk mercer's in Oxford street, a whip maker's in 
legent street, and a fancy stationer's in the Quadrant — either 
f which establishments fifty years ago would have been the 
alk of all Europe. The first-mentioned warehouse lines one 
f the quarters of the Regent Circus, and turns the corner of 
)xford street with what seems but one window — a series of 
lass plates, only divided by brass rods, reaching from the 
round to the roof— window panes twelve feet high, and four 
r five feet broad ! The opportunity which this immense 
ransparency of front gives for the display of goods is propor- 



166 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



tionately improved ; and in the mixture of colors and fabrics 
to attract attention there is evidently no small degree of art— 
so harmonious are the colors and yet so gorgeous the show. I. 
see that several more renovations are taking place in different 
parts of both "city" and "town;" and London promises, 
somewhere in the next decimals, to complete its emergence 
from the chrysalis with a glory to which eastern tales will bet 
veiy gingerbread matters indeed. 

If I may judge by my own experience and by what I can 
see in the streets, all this night-splendor out of doors empties, 
the playhouses — for I would rather walk Eegent street of an 
evening than see ninety-nine plays in a hundred ; and so think 
apparently multitudes of people, who stroll up and down the 
clean and broad London sidewalks, gazing in at the gorgeousi 
succession of shop windows, and by the day-bright glare of 
the illumination extending nods and smiles — the street, indeed^ 
becoming gradually a fashionable evening promenade, as cheap 
as it is amusing and delightful. There are large classes or 
society, who find the evenings long in their dingy and incon-i 
venient homes, and who must go someivhere ; and while the 
streets were dark, and poorly paved and lighted, the play- 
house was the only resort where they could beguile their 
cares with splendor and amusement, and in those days theat« ; 
ricals flourished, as in these days of improved thoroughfares 
and gay shops they evidently languish. I will lend the hint 
to the next essayist on the " Decline of the Drama." 

The increased attractiveness of London, from thus disclos- 
ing the secrets of its wondrous wealth, compensates in a de- 
gree for what increases as rapidly on me — the distastefulness 
of the suburbs, from the forbidding and repulsive exclusive- 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 



167 



iess of high garden walls, impermeable shrubberies, and every 
sort of contrivance for confining the traveller to the road, 
ind nothing but the road. What should we say in America 
:o travelling miles between two brick walls, with no prospect 
but the branches of overhanging trees from the invisible park 
lands on either side, and the alley of cloudy sky overhead ? — 
How tantalizing to pass daily by a noble estate with a fine 
specimen of architecture in its centre, and see no more of it 
than a rustic lodge and some miles of the tops of trees over a 
paling ! All this to me is oppressive — I feel abridged of 
breathing room and eyesight — deprived of my liberty — robbed 
of my horizon. Much as I admire high preservation and cul- 
tivation, I would almost compromise for a "snake fence" in 
this part of England. 

On a visit to a friend a week or two since in the neighbor 
I hood of London, I chanced, during a long walk, to get a 
glimpse over the wall of a nicely-gravelled and secluded path, 
which commanded what the proprietor's fence enviously shut 
from the road — a noble view of London and the Thames. Ac- 
customed to see people traversing my own lawn and fields in 
America without question, as suits their purpose, and tired of 
the bricks, hedges, and placards of blacking and pills, I jump- 
ed the fence, and with feelings of great relief and expansion 
aired my eyes and my imagination in the beautiful grounds of 
my friend's opulent neighbor. The Thames, with its innu- 
merable steamers, men-of-war, yachts, wherries, and ships — 
a vein of commercial and maritime life lying between the soft 
green meadows of Kent and Essex — formed a delicious pic- 
ture of contrast and meaning beauty, which I gazed on with 
great delight for — some ten minutes. In about that time I 



168 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



was perceived by Mr. B 's gardener, who, with a very 

pokerish stick in his hand, came running toward me, evidently 
by his pace, prepared for a vigorous pursuit of the audacious 
intruder. He came up to where I stood, quite out of breath, 
and demanded, with a tight grasp of his stick, what business 
I had there. I was not very well prepared with an answer, 
and short of beating the man for his impudence, (which in se- 
veral ways might have been a losing job,) I did not see my 
way very clearly out of Mr. B.'s grounds. My first intention, 
to call on the proprietor and apologise for my intrusion while 
I complained of the man's insolence, was defeated by the in- 
formation, evidently correct, that Mr. B was not resident 

at the place, and so I was walked out of the lodge gate with a 
vagabond's warning — never to let him " catch me there again." 
So much for my liberal translation of a park fence 

This spirit of exclusion makes itself even more disagreeably 
felt where a gentleman's paling chances to include any natu- 
ral curiosity. One of the wildest, as well as most exquisitely 
beautiful spots on earth is the Dargle, in the county Wick- 
low, in Ireland. It is interesting, besides, as belonging to 
the estate of the orator and patriot Grattan. To get to it, we 
were let through a gate by an old man, who received a dou- 
ceur : we crossed a newly reaped field, and came to another 
gate ; another person opened this, and we paid another shil- 
ling. We walked on toward the glen, and in the middle of the 
path, without any object apparently but the toll, there was 
another locked gate, and another porter to pay ; and when 
we made our exit from the opposite extremity of the grounds, 
after seeing the Dargle, there was a fourth gate and a fourth 
porter. The first field and fee belonged, if I remember right- 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 160 

ly, to a Captain Somebody, but the other three gates belong to 
the present Mr. G rattan, who is very welcome to my three 
shillings, either as a tribute to his father's memory, or to the 
beauty of Tinnehinch and the Dargle. But on whichever 
ground he pockets it, the mode of assessment is, to say the 
least, ungracious. Without subjecting myself to the charge 
of a mercenary feeling, I think I may say that the enthusiasm 
for natural scenery is very much clipped and belittled by seeing 
it at a shilling the perch — paying the money and taking the 
look. I should think no sum lost which was expended in 
bringing me to so romantic a glen as the Dargle ; but it should 
be levied somewhere else than within sound of its wild water- 
fall — somewhere else than between the waterfall and the fine 

mansion of Tinnehinch. 

******** 

The fish most " out of water" in the world is certainly a 
! Frenchman in England without acquaintances. The illness 
of a friend has lately occasioned me one or two hasty visits to 
Brighton ; and being abandoned on the first evening to the 
solitary mercies of the coffee-room of the hotel, I amused my- 
self not a little with watching the ennui of one of these unfor- 
tunate foreigners who was evidently there simply to qualify 
himself to say that he had been at Brighton in the season. I 
arrived late, and was dining by myself at one of the small tables, 
when I became aware that some one at the other end of the 
room was watching me very steadily. The place was as silent 
as coffee-rooms usually are after the dinner hour, the rustling 
of newspapers the only sound that disturbed the digestion of 
eight or ten persons present, when the unmistakeable call of 
I Vaitare !" informed me that if I looked up I should encoun- 
8 



170 FAMOUS PERSONS AND TLACES. 

ter the eyes of a Frenchman. The waiter entered at the call, 
and after a considerable parley with my opposite neighbor, 
came over to me and said in rather an apologetic tone, " Beg 
pardon, sir, but the shevaleer wishes to know if your name is 
Coopair." Not very much inclined, fatigued as I was, for a 
conversation in French, which I saw would be the result of a . 
polite answer to his question, I merely shook my head, and took : 
up the newspaper. The Frenchman drew a long sigh, poured 1 
out his last glass of claret, and crossing his thumbs on the-) 
edge of the table, fell into a profound study of the grain of 
the mahogany. 

What with dawdling over coffee and tea and reading half- 
a-dozen newspapers, I whiled away the time till ten o'clock, , 
pitying occasionally the unhappy chevalier who exhibited every-' 
symptom of a person bored to the last extremity. One person 
after another called for a bed-room candle, and exit finally the i 
Frenchman himself, making me, however, a most courteous i 
bow as he passed out. There were two gentlemen left in the i 
room, one a tall and thin old man of seventy, the other a short 
and portly man of fifty or thereabouts, both quite bald. They 
rose together and came to the fire near which I was sitting. 

" That last man that went out calls himself a chevalier," 
said the thin gentleman. 

" Yes," said his stout friend — " he took me for a Mr. Cooper 
he had travelled with." 

" The deuce he did," said the other — " why he took me for 
a Mr. Cooper, too, and we are not very much alike." 

" I beg pardon, gentlemen," said I — " he took me for this 
Mr. Cooper too." 

The Frenchman's ruse was discovered. It was instead of 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. m 

a snuff-box — a way he had of making acquaintance. We had 
a good laugh at our triple resemblance (three men more un- 
like it would be difficult to find,) and bidding the two M 
Cooper good night, I followed the ingenious chevalier up 
stairs. 

The next morning I came down rather late to breakfast, and 
found my friend chipping his egg-shells to pieces at the table 
next to the one I had occupied the night before. He rose im- 
mediately with a look of radiant relief in his countenance, 
made a most elaborate apology for having taken me for Mr. 
Cooper (whom I was so like, Dependant, that we should be 
mistaken for each other by our nearest friends,) and in a few 
minutes, Mr. Cooper himself, if he had entered by chance, 
would have returned the compliment, and taken me for the 
chevalier's most intimate friend and fellow-traveller. 

I remained two or three days at Brighton, and never dis- 
covered in that time that the chevalier's ruse succeeded with 
any other person. I was his only succcessful resemblance to 
"Monsieur Coopair." He always waited breakfast for me 
in the coffee-room, and when I called for my bill on the last 
morning, he dropped his knife and asked if I was going to 
London — and at what hour — and if I would be so obliging as 
to take a place for him in the same coach. 

It was a remarkably fine day ; and with my friend by my 
side outside of " the Age,"' we sped on toward London, the 
sun getting dimmer and dimmer, and the fog thicker and more 
chilly at every mile farther from the sea. It was a trying 
atmosphere for the best of spirits — let alone the ever depressed 
bosom of a stranger in England. The coach stopped at the 
Elephant and Castle, and I ordered down my baggage, and 



172 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



informed my friend, for the first time, that I was bound to a 
country-house six miles from town. I scarce knew how I had 
escaped telling him of it before, but his " impossible ! mon 
ami /" was said in a tone and accompanied with a look of the 
most complete surprise and despair. I was evidently his only 
hope in London. 

I went up to town a day or two after ; and in making my 
way to Paternoster Row, I saw my friend on the opposite side 
of the Strand, with his hands thrust up to the wrists in the 
pockets of his " Taglioni," and his hat jammed down over his 
e} 7 es, looking into the shop windows without much distinction 
between the trunkmaker's and the printseller's — evidently mis- 
erable beyond being amused by anything. I was too much 
in a hurry to cross over and resume my office as escape- valve 
to his ennuij and I soon outwalked his slow pace, and lost 
sight of him. Whatever title he had to "chevalier" (and he 
was decidedly too deficient in address to belong to the order 
11 cPindustrie") he had no letter of recommendation in his 
personal appearance, and as little the air of even a Frenchman 
of" quality" as any man I ever saw in the station of a gentle- 
man. He is, in short, the person who would first occur to me 
if I were to see a paragraph in the Times headed " suicide by 
a foreigner." 

Revenons tin peu. Brighton at this season (November) en- 
joys a climate, which, as a change from the heavy air in the 
neighborhood of London, is extremely exhilarating and agree- 
able. Though the first day of my arrival was rainy, a walk 
up the west cliff gave me a feeling of elasticity and lightness 
of spirits, of which I was beginning to forget the very exist- 
ence, in the eternal fogs of the six months I had passed inland. 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. ^3 



I do not wonder at the passion of the English for Brighton. 
It is, in addition to the excellence of the air, both a magnifi- 
cent city and the most advantageous ground for the discom- 
fiture of the common enemy, " winter and rough weather." 
The miles of broad gravel walk just out of reach of the surf of 
the sea,, so hard and so smoothly rolled that they are dry in 
five minutes after the rain has ceased to fall, are, alone, no 
small item in the comfort of a town of professed idlers and in- 
valids. I was never tired of sauntering alono- this smooth 
promenade so close to the sea. The beautiful children, who 
throng the walks in almost all weathers, (and what children on 
earth are half as beautiful as English children ?) were to me a 
constant source of pleasure and amusement. Tire of this, 
and by crossing the street you meet a transfer of the gay 
throngs of Kegent street and Hyde Park, with splendid shops 
and all the features of a metropolis, while midway between 
the sea and this crowded sidewalk pours a tide of handsome 
equipages, parties on horseback, and vehicles of every descrip- 
tion, all subservient to exercise and pleasure. 

My first visit to Brighton was made in a very cold day in 
summer, and I saw it through most unfavorable spectacles. 
But I should think that along the cliffs, where there are no 
trees or verdure to be seen, there is very little apparent differ- 
ence between summer and winter; and coming here with the 
additional clothing of a severer season, the temperature of the 
elastic and saliife air is not even chilly. The most delicate 
children play upon the beach in days when there is no sun- 
shine ; and invalids, wheeled out in these convenient bath 
chairs, sit for hours by the seaside, watching the coming 
sChd retreating of the waves, apparently without any sensation 



174 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



of cold — and this in December. In America (in the same lat- 
itudes with Leghorn and Venice) an invalid sitting out of 
doors at this season would freeze to death in half an hour. 
Yet it was as cold in August, in England, as it has been in 
November, and it is this temperate evenness of the weather 
throughout the year which makes English climate, on the 
whole, perhaps the healthiest in the world. 

In the few days I was at Brighton, I became very fond of 
the perpetual loud beat of the sea upon the shore. Whether, 
like the " music of the spheres," it becomes at last " too con- 
stant to be heard," I did not ask — but I never lost the con- 
sciousness of it except when engaged in conversation, and I 
found it company to my thoughts when I dined or walked 
alone, and a most agreeable lullaby at night. This majestic 
monotone is audible all over Brighton, in-doors and out, and ■ 
nothing overpowers it but the wind in a storm ; it is even 
then only by fits, and the alternation of the hissing and moan- 
ing of the blast with the broken and heavy plash of the waters 
is so like the sound of a tempest at sea (the whistling in the 
rigging, and the burst of the waves) that those who have been 
at Brighton in rough weather, have realized all of a storm at 
sea but the motion and the seasickness — rather a large, but 
not an undesirable diminution of experience. 

Calling on a friend at Brighton, I was introduced casually 
to a Mr. Smith. The name, of course, did not awaken any 
immediate curiosity, but a second look at the gentleman did 
— for I thought I had never seen a more intellectual or finer 
head. A fifteen minutes' conversation, which touched upon 
nothing that could give me a clue to his profession, still satis- 
fied me that so distinguished an address, and so keen an eye, 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 175 

could belong to no nameless person, and I was scarcely sur- 
prised when I read upon his card at parting — Horace Smith. 
I need not say it was a very great pleasure to meet him. I 
was delighted, too, that the author of books we love as much 
as " Zillah," and " Brambletye House," looks unlike other 
men. It gratifies somehow a personal feeling — as if those 
who had won so much admiration from us should, for our 
pride's sake, wear the undeniable stamp of superiority — as if 
we had acquired a property in him by loving him. How nat- 
ural it is, when we have talked and thought a great deal 
about an author, to call him " ours." " What Smith ? Why 
our Smith — Horace Smith" — is as common a dialogue between 
persons who never saw him as it is among his personal 
friends. 

These two remarkable brothers, James and Horace Smith, 
are both gifted with exteriors such as are not often possessed 
with genius — yet only James is so fortunate as to have stum- 
bled upon a good painter. Lonsdale's portrait of James 
Smith, engraved by Cousens, is both the author and the man 
— as fine a picture of him, with his mind seen through his 
features, as was ever done. But there is an engraved picture 
extant of the author of Zillah, that, though it is no likeness 
of the author, is a detestable caricature of the man. Really 
this is a point about which distinguished men, in justice to 
themselves, should take some little care. Sir Thomas Law- 
rence's portraits, and Sir Joshua Reynolds's, are a sort of bio- 
graphy of the eminent men they painted. The most enduring 
history, it has been said, is written in coins. Certainly the 
most effective biography is expressed in portraits. Long after 
the book and your impressions of the character of which it 



76 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



treats have become dim in your memory, your impression of 
me features and mien of a hero or a poet, as received from a 

■icture, remains indelible. How often does the face belie the 
biography — making us think better or worse of the man, after 
forming an opinion from a portrait in words, that was either 
partial or malicious ! I am persuaded the world would think 
better of Shelley, if there were a correct and adequate portrait 

f his face, as it has been described to me by one or two who 
knew him. How much of the Byronie idolatry is born and 
fed from the idealized pictures of him treasured in every port- 
folio ! Sir Thomas Lawrence, Chalon, and Parris, have com- 
posed between them a biography of Lady Blessington, that 
have made her quite independent of the " memoirs " of the 
next century. And who, I may safely ask, even in America, 
has seen the nice, cheerful, sensible, and motherly face which 
prefaces the new edition of" The Manners of the American 
Domestics," (I beg pardon for giving the title from my Ken- 
tucky copy) without liking Mrs. Trollope a yreat deal better 
and at once dismissing ail idea of " the bazar" as a libel on 
that most lady-like countenance ? 

* # * * # • * 

I think Lady S had more talent and distinction crowd- 
ed into her pretty rooms last night, than I ever before saw in 
such small compass. It is a bijou of a house, full of gems of 
statuary and painting, but all its capacity for company lies in 
a small drawing-room, a smaller reception room, and a very 
small, but very exquisite boudoir — yet to tell you who v\ 
there would read like Colburn's list of authors, added to 
paragraph of noble diners out from the Morning Post. 



ere 
a 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. j 7? 

The largest lion of the evening certainly was the new Per- 
sian ambassador, a man six feet in his slippers ; a height 
which, with his peaked calpack, of a foot and a half, super- 
added, keeps him very much among the chandeliers. The 
principal article of his dress does not diminish the effect of his 
eminence — a long white shawl worn like a cloak, and com- 
pletely enveloping him from beard to toe. From the twisted 
shawl around his waist glitters a dagger's hilt, lumped with 
diamonds — and diamonds, in most dazzling profusion, almost 
cover his breast. I never saw so many together except in a 
cabinet of regalia. Close behind this steeple of shawl and 
gem, keeps, like a short shadow when the sun is high, his ex- 
cellency's shadow, a dwarfishly small man, dressed also in 
cashmere and calpack, and of a most ill-favored and bow- 
stringish countenance and mien. The master and man seem 
chosen for contrast, the countenance of the ambassador ex- 
pressing nothing but extreme good nature. The ambassador 
talks, too, and the secretary is dumb. 

T H stood bolt upright against a mirror door, 

looking like two T H s trying to see which was taller. 

The one with his face to me looked like the incarnation of the 
John Bull newspaper, for which expression he was indebted 
to a very hearty face, and a very round subject for a buttoned 

up coat; while the H with his back to me looked like an 

author, for which he was indebted to an exclusive view of his 

cranium. I dare say Mr. H w 7 ould agree with me that 

he was seen, on the whole, at a most enviable advantage. It 
is so seldom we look, beyond the man, at the author. 

I have rarely seen a greater contrast in person and expres- 
sion than between H and B , who stood near him. 

8* 



j 78 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

Both were talking to ladies — one bald, burly, upright, and 
with a face of immovable gravity, the other slight, with a pro- 
fusion of curling hair, restless in his movements, and of a 
countenance which lights up with a sudden inward illumina- 
tion. H 's partner in the conversation looked into his face 

with a ready prepared sinile for "what he was going to say, 

B 's listened with an interest complete, but without effort. 

H was suffering from what I think is the common curse 

of a reputation for wit — the expectation of the listener had 
outrun the performance. 

H B , whose diplomatic promotion goes on much 

faster than can be pleasing to " Lady Ckeveley" has just re- 
ceived his appointment to Paris — the object of his first wishes. 
He stood near his brother, talking to a beautiful and cele- 
brated woman, aud I thought, spite of her ladyship's unflatter- 
ing description, I had seldom seen a more intellectual face, or 
a more gentlemanly and elegant exterior. 

Late in the evening came in his Royal Highness the duke 
of C , and I wondered, as I had done many times be- 
fore, when in company w T ith one of these royal brothers, at the 
uncomfortable etiquette so laboriously observed toward them. 
Wherever he moved in the crowded rooms, everybody rose 
and stood silent, and by giving way much more than for any 
one else, left a perpetual circular space around him, in which, 
of course, his conversation had the effect of a lecture to a 
listening audience. A more embarrassed manner and a more 
hesitating mode of speech than the duke's, I can not conceive. 
He is evidently gene to the last degree with this burdensome 
deference; and one would think that in the society of highly- 
cultivated and aristocratic persons, such as were present, he 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. ng 



would be delighted to put his highness into his pocket when 
the footman leaves him at the door, and hear no more of it till 
he goes again to his carriage. There was great curiosity to 
know whether the Duke would think it etiquetical to speak to 
the Persian, as in consequence of the difference between the 
Shah and the British Envoy the tall minister is not received 

at the court of St. James. Lady S introduced them, 

however, and then the Duke again must have felt his rank 
nothing less than a nuisance. It is awkward enough at any 
time, to converse with a foreigner who has not forty English 
words in his vocabulary, but what with the Duke's hesitating 
and difficult utterance, the silence and attention of the listening 
guests, and the Persian's deference and complete inability to 
comprehend a syllable, the scene was quite painful. 

There was some of the most exquisite amateur singing I 
ever heard after the company thinned off a little, and the fash- 
ionable song of the day was sung by a most beautiful woman 
in a way to move half the company to tears. It is called 
" Ruth," and is a kind of recitative of the passage in Scripture, 
" Where thou goest I loill go" &c. 

* * ****** 

I have driven in the park several days, admiring the queen 
on horseback, and observing the changes in the fashions of 
driving, equipages, &c, &c. Her Majesty seems to me to 
ride very securely and fearlessly, though it is no wonder that 
in a country where every body rides, there should be bolder 
and better horsewomen. Miss Quentin, one of the maids of 
honor, said to be the best female equestrian in England, {< takes 
the courage out" of the Queen's horse every morning before 



18 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

the ride — so she is secured against one class of accidents. I 
met the royal party yesterday in full gallop near the centre of 
Eotten Bow, and the two grooms who ride ahead had brief 
time to do their work of making the crowd of carriages give 
way. On came the Queen upon a dun-colored, highly-groomed 
horse, with her prime minister on one side of her, and Lord 
Byron upon the other, her cortege of maids of honor and ladies 
and lords in waiting checking their more spirited horses, and 
preserving always a slight distance between themselves and Her 
Majesty. Victoria's round and plump figure looks extremely well 
in her dark green riding-dress, but I thought the man's hat un- 
becoming. Her profile is not sufficiently good for that trying 
style, and the cloth riding-cap is so much prettier, that I won- 
der she does not remember that " nice customs courtesy to 
great queens f % and wear what suits her. She rode with her mouth 
open, and looked exhilarated with the exercise. Lord Mel- 
bourne, it struck me, was the only person in her party whose 
face had not the constrained look of consciousness of observa- 
tion. 

I observe that the " crack men" ride without martingales, 
and that the best turnouts are driven without a check-rein. 
The outstretched neck which is the consequence, has a sort 
of Arab or blood look, probably the object of the change; but 
the drooping head when the horse is walking or standing 
seems to me ugly and out of taste. All the new carriages are 
built near the ground. The low park-phaeton, light as a child's 
plaything and drawn by a pair of ponies, is the fashionable 
equipage. I saw the prettiest thing conceivable of this kind 
yesterday in the park — a lady driving a pair of small cream- 
colored horses of great beauty, with her tw T o children in the 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 181 

phoeton, and two grooms behind mounted on cream-colored 
saddle-horses, all four of the animals of the finest shape and 
action. The new street cabs (precisely the old-fashioned sedan- 
chair suspended between four wheels, a foot from the ground) 
are imitated by private carriages, and driven with two horses 
— ugly enough. The cab-phaeton is in great fashion, with 
either one or two horses. The race of ponies is greatly im- 
proved since I was in England. They are as well shaped as the 
large horse, with very fine coats and great spirit. The chil- 
dren of the nobility go scampering through the park upon 
them, looking like horsemen and horsewomen seen through a 
reversed opera-glass. They are scarce larger than a New- 
foundland dog, but they patter along with great speed. There 
is one fine lad of -about eight years, whose parents seem to 
have very little care for his neck, and who, upon a fleet, milk- 
white, long tailed pony, is seen daily riding at a rate of tw r elve 
miles an hour through the most crowded streets, with a servant 
on a tall horse plying whip and spur to keep up with him. 
The whole system has the droll effect of a mixture of Lilliput 
and Brobdignag. 

******** 
We met the King of Oude a few days since at a party, and 
were honored by an invitation to dine with his Majesty at his 
house in the Regent's park. Yesterday was the appointed 
day; and with the pleasant anticipation of an oriental feast 
we drove up at seven, and were received by his turbaned 
ayahs, who took shawl and hat with a reverential salaam, and 
introduced us to the large drawing-room overlooking the park. 
The King was not yet down; but in the corner sat three 



18 2 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



parsees or fire worshippers, guests like ourselves, who in their 
long white linen robes, bronze faces, and high caps, looked 
like anything but " diners-out" in London. To our surprise 
they addressed us in excellent English, and we were told after- 
ward that they were all learned men — facts not put down to 
the credit of the Ghebirs in Lalla Kookh. 

We were called out upon the balcony to look at a balloon 
that was hovering over the park, and on stepping back into 
the drawing-room, we found the company all assembled, and 
our royal host alone wanting. There were sixteen English 
ladies present, and five white gentlemen beside myself. The 
Orient, however, was well represented. In a corner, leaning 
silently against a table, stood Prince Hussein Mirza, the 
King's cousin, and a more romantic and captivating specimen 
of Hindoo beauty could scarcely be imagined. He was slen- 
der, tall, and of the clearest olive complexion, his night-black 
hair falling over his shoulders in profusion, and his large an- 
telope eyes fixed with calm and lustrous surprise upon the 
half denuded forms sitting in a circle before him. We heard 
afterward that he has conceived a most uncontrollable and un- 
happy passion for a high-born English girl whom he met in 
society, and that it is with difficulty that he is persuaded to 
come out of his room. His dress was of shawls most grace- 
fully draped about him, and a cap of gold cloth was thrown 
carelessly on the side of his head. Altogether he was like a 
picture of the imagination. 

A middle-aged stout man, ashy black, with Grecian features, 
and a most determined and dignified expression of mouth, 

eat betw T een Lady and Miss Porter, and this was the 

Waked or ambassador of the prince of Sutara, by name Af- 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. lg3 



zul Ali. He is in England on business for his master, and if 
he does not succeed it will be no fault of his under lip. His 
secretary, Keeram Ali, stood behind him — the Wakeel dressed 
in shawls of bright scarlet, with a white cashmere turban, 
and the scribe in darker stuffs of the same fashion. Then 
there was the King's physician, a short, wiry, merry looking, 
quick-eyed Hindoo, with a sort of quizzical angle in the pose 
of his turban : the high-priest, also a most merry -looking Orien- 
tal, and Ali Acbar, a Persian attache. I think these were all 
the Asiatics. 

The King entered in a few minutes, and made the circuit 
of the room, shaking hands most cordially with all his guests. 
He is a very royal-looking person indeed. Perhaps you might 
call him too corpulent, if his fine height (a little over six feet,) 
and very fine proportions, did not give his large size a charac- 
ter of majesty. His chest is full and round, and his walk 
erect and full of dignity. He has the Italian olive complex- 
ion, with straight hair, and my own remark at first seeing him 
was that of many others, " How like a bronze cast of Napo- 
leon I" The subsequent study of his features remove this im- 
pression, however, for he is a most " merry monarch," and is 
seldom seen without a smile. His dress was a mixture of 
oriental and English fashions — a pair of baggy blue panta- 
loons, bound around the waist with a rich shawl, a splendid 
scarlet waistcoat buttoned close over his spacious chest, and a 
robe of a very fine snuff-colored cloth something like a loose 
dressing gown without a collar. A cap of silver cloth, and a 
brilliant blue-satin cravat completed his costume, unless in his 
covering should be reckoned an enormous turquoise ring, 
which almost entirely concealed one of his fingers. 



184 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



Ekbcd-oodrDowdah, Nawaub of Oude (his name and title) is 
at present appealing to the English against his uncle, who 
usurps his throne by the aid and countenance of the East In- 
dia company. The Mohammedan law, as I understand, em- 
powers a king to choose his successor from his children with- 
out reference to primogeniture, and the usurper, though an 
elder brother, having been imbecile from his youth, Ekbal's 
father was selected by the then king of Oude to succeed him. 
The question having been referred to Lord Wellesley, how- 
ever, then governor of India, he decided that the English law 
of primogeniture should prevail, or in other words — as the 
king's friends say — preferred to have for the king of a subject 
province an imbecile who would give him no trouble. So 
slipped from the Nawaub's hands a pretty kingdom of six 
millions of faithful Mohammedans ! I believe this is the 
" short " of the story. I wonder (we are reproached so very 
often by the English for our treatment of the Indians) whether 
a counter-chapter of " expedient wrong " might not be made 
out from the history of the Indians under British govern- 
ment in the East. 

Dinner was announced with a Hindostanee salaam, and the 

King gave his arm to Lady . The rest of us " stood 

not upon the order of our going," and I found myself seated 
at table between my wife and a Polish Countess, some half- 
dozen removes from the Naw T aub's right hand. His Highness 
commenced helping those about him most plentifully from a 
large pillau, talking all the while most merrily in broken Eng- 
lish, or resorting to Hindostanee and his interpreter whenever 
his tongue got into trouble. "With the exception of one or 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. la5 



two English joints, all the dishes were prepared with riee or 
saffron, and (wine being forbidden by the Mohammedan law,) 
ieed water was served round from Indian coolers freely. For 
one, I would have compounded for a bottle of wine by taking 
the sin of the entire party on my soul, for, what with the ex- 
haustion of a long London day, and the cloying quality of the 
XawauVs rich dishes, I began to be sorry I had not brought 
a flask in my pocket. His Majesty's spirits seemed to require 
no aid from wine. He talked constantly, and shrewdly, and 
well. He impresses every one with a high estimate of his 
talents, though a more complete and undisguised child of na- 
ture I never saw. Good sense, with good humor, frankness, 
and simplicity, seem to be his leading qualities. 

We were obliged to take our leave early after dinner, hav- 
ing other engagements for the evening, but while coffee was 
serving, the Hindostanee cook, a funny little old man, came 
in to receive the compliments of the company upon his dinner, 
and to play and dance for His Majesty's amusement. He had 
at his back a long Indian drum, which he called his " turn 
turn," and playing himself an accompaniment upon this, he 
sang two or three comic songs in his own language to a sort 
of wild yet merry air, very much to the delight of all the 
orientals. Singer, dancer, musician, and cook, the king cer- 
tainly has a jewel of a servant in him. 

One moment bowing ourselves out from the presence of a 
Hindoo king, and the next beset by an Irishman with " Hea- 
ven bless your honor for the sixpence you mean to give me!" 
what contrasts strike the traveller in this great heart of the 
world ! Paddy lighted us to our carriage with his lantern, 
implored the coachman to " dhrive carefully," and then stood 



I §5 FAMOUS PERSONS AJNL> PLACES. 



with bis head bent to catch the sound upon the pavement of 
another sixpence for his tenderness. Wherever there is a 
party in the fashionable quarters of London, these Tantaluses 
nit about with their lanterns — for ever at the door of pleasure, 
yet shivering and starving for ever in their rags. What a life ! 
***** 

One of the most rational and agreeable of the fashionable 
resorts in London is Kensington Gardens, on the days when 
the royal band plays, from live to seven o'clock, near the 
bridge of the Serpentine. Some twenty of the best instru- 
mental musicians of London station themselves under the 
trees in this superb park — for though called " gardens," it is 
but a park with old trees and greensward — and up and down 
the fine silky carpet stroll hundreds of the fashionables of 
" May Fair and Belgrave Square," listening a little, perhaps, 
and chattering a great deal certainly. It is a good opportu- 
nity to see what celebrated beauties look like, by daylight ; 
and, truth to say, one comes to the conclusion, there, that 
candle-light is your true Laiydor. It is very ingeniously con- 
trived by the grand chamberlain that this public music 
should be plaj^ed in a far-away corner of the park, inaccessi- 
ble except by those who have carriages. The plebeians, for 
whose use and pleasure it seems at first sight graciously con- 
trived, are pretty well sifted by the two miles walk, and a very 
aristocratic and well dressed assembly indeed is that of Ken- 
sington Gardens. 

Near the usual stand of the musicians runs a bridle path 
for horsemen, separated from the greensward by a sunk 
fence, and as I was standing by the edge of the ditch yes- 






SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 



187 



terday, the Queen rode by, pulling up to listen to the mu- 
sic, and smile right and left to the crowd of cavaliers 
drawn up in the road. I pulled off my hat and stood unco- 
vered instinctively, but looking around to see how the prome- 
naders received her, I found to my surprise that with the ex- 
ception of a bald-headed nobleman whom I chanced to know, 
the Yankee stood alone in his homage to her. 



EGLINGTON TOURNAMENT. 



That Irish channel has, as the English say, " a nasty way 
with it." I embarked at noon on the 26th, in a magnificent 
steamer, the Royal Sovereign, which had been engaged by 
Lord Eglington (as ]jer advertisement) to set down at Ardros- 
san all passengers bound to the tournament. This was a 
seventeen hours' job, including a very cold, blow T y, and rough 
night; and of the two hundred passengers on board, one half 
were so blest as to have berths or settees — the others were 
unblesty indeed. 

I found on board several Americans; and by the time I had 

looked at the shape of the Liverpool harbor and seen one or 

two vessels run in before a slapping breeze, the premonitory 

symptom (which had already sent many to their berths) sent 

me to mine. The boat was pitching backward and forward 

with a sort of handsaw action that was not endurable. By 

foregoing my dinner and preserving a horizontal position I 

[188] 



EGLINTON TOURNAMENT. { 89 

escaped all sickness, and landed at Ardrossan at six the next 
morning with a thirty-six hours' fast upon me, which I trusted 
my incipient gout would remember as a per contra to the feast 
in the promised " banquet." 

Ardrossan, built chiefly, I believe, by Lord Eglington's 
family, and about eight miles from the castle, is a small but 
very clean and thrifty looking hamlet on that part of the west- 
ern coast of Scotland which lies opposite the Isle of Arran. 
Ailsa rock, famous in song, slumbers like a cloud on the 
south -western horizon. The long breakers of the channel lay 
their lines of foam almost upon the street, and the harbor is 
formed by a pier jutting out from a little promontory on the 
northern extremity of the town. The one thoroughfare of 
Ardrossan is kept clean by the broom of every wind that siveeps 
the Irish sea. A cleaner or bleaker spot I never saw. 

A Gael, who did not comprehend a syllable of such Eng- 
lish as a Yankee delivers, shouldered my portmanteau without 
direction or request, and travelled away to the inn, where he 
deposited it and held out his hand in silence. There was cer- 
tainly quite enough said between us; and remembering the 
boisterous accompaniment with which the claims of porters 
are usually pushed upon one's notice, I could well wish that 
Gaelic tide-waiters were more common. 

" Any room, landlord ?" was the first question. " Not a cup- 
board, sir," was the answer. — " Can you give me some break- 
fast ?" asked fifty others in a breath. — " Breakfast will be put 
upon all the tables presently, gentlemen," said the dismayed 
Boniface, glancing at the crowds who were pouring in, and, 
Scotchmanlike, making no promises to individuals. — " Land- 
lord !" vociferated a gentleman from the other side of the 



J90 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



hall — " what the devil does this mean ? Here's the room I 
engaged a fortnight ago occupied by a dozen people shaving 
and dressing !" — u I canna help it, sir ! Ye're welcome to 
to turn 'em a' out — if ye can/" said the poor man, lifting up 
his hands in despair, and retreating to the kitchen. The hint 
was a good one, and taking up my own portmanteau, I opened 
a door in one of the passages. It led into a small apartment, 
which, in more roomy times might have been a pantry, but 
was now occupied by three beds and a great variety of bag- 
gage. There was a twopenny glass on the mantel-piece, and 
a drop or two of water in a pitcher, and where there were 
sheets I could make shift for a towel. I found presently, by 
the way, that I had had a narrow escape of surprising some 
one in bed, for the sheet which did duty as a napkin was still 
warm with pressure of the newly-fled occupant. 

Three or four smart-looking damsels in caps looked in while 
I was engaged in my toilet, and this, with one or two slight 
observations made in the apartment, convinced me that I had 
intruded on the dormitory of the ladies' maids belonging to the 
various parties in the house. A hurried »' God bless us !" as 
the}'- retreated, however, was all either of reproach or remon- 
strance that I was troubled with ; and I emerged with a smooth 
chin in time for breakfast, very much to the envy and surprise 
of my less-enterprising companions. 

There was a great scramble for the tea and toast ; but unit- 
ing forces with a distinguished literary man whose acquain- 
tance I had been fortunate enough to make on board the 
the steamer, we managed to get places at one of the tables, 
and achieved our breakfasts in tolerable comfort. We wero 
still eigh t miles from Eglington, however, and a lodging was 



EGLINTON TOURNAMENT. 1Q1 



the next matter of moment. My friend thought lie was pro- 
vided for nearer the castle, and I went into the street, which 
I found crowded with distressed looking people, flying from 
door to door, with ladies on their arms and wheelbarrows of 
baggage at their heels, the townspeople standing at the doors 
and corners staring at the novel spectacle in open mouthed 
w T onder. Quite in a dilemma whether or not to go on to Ir- 
vine (which, being within two miles of the castle, was proba- 
bly much more over-run than Ardrossan) I was standing at 
the corner of the street, when a Liverpool gentleman, whose 
kindness I must record as well as my pleasure in his society 
for the two or three days we were together, came up and of- 
fered me a part of a lodging he had that moment taken. The 
bed was what w T e call in America a birnk, or a kind of berth 
sunk into the wall, and there were two in the same garret, but 
the sheets were clean ; and there was a large Bible on the 
table — the latter a warrant for civility, neatness, and honesty, 
which, after many years of travel, I have never found decep- 
tive. I closed immediately with my friend ; and whether it 
was from a smack of authorship or no, I must say I took to 
my garret very kindly. 

It was but nine o'clock, and the day was on my hands. 
Just beneath the window ran a railroad, built to bring coal to 
the seaside, and extending to within a mile of the castle ; and 
with some thirty or forty others, I embarked in a horse-car for 
Eglinton to see the preparations for the following day's tour- 
nament. We were landed near the park gate, after an hour's 
drive through a flat country blackened with coal pits ; and it 
was with no little relief to the eye that I entered upon a 
smooth and gravelled avenue, leading by a mile of shaded 



19 2 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



windings to the castle. The day was heavenly ; the sun- 
flecks lay bright as "patines of gold " on the close-shaven 
grass beneath the trees ; and I thought that nature had con- 
sented for once to remove her eternal mist veil from Scotland, 
and let pleasure -and sunshine have a holiday together. The 
sky looked hard and deep ; and I had no more apprehension 
of rain for the morrow than I should have had under a July 
sun in Asia. 

Crossing a bright little river (the Lugton I think it is called) 
whose sloping banks, as far as I could see up and down, were 
shaven to the rich smoothness of "velvet of three-pile," I came 
in sight of the castle towers. Another bridge over a winding 
of the same river lay to the left, a Gothic structure of the 
most rich and airy mould, and from either end of this extend- 
ed the enclosed passage for the procession to the lists The 
castle stood high upon a mound beyond. Its round towers 
were half concealed by some of the finest trees I ever saw — 
and though less antique and of a less frowning and rude as- 
pect than I had expected, it was a very perfect specimen of 
modern castellated architecture. On ascending to the lawn 
in front of the castle, I found that it was built less upon a 
mound than upon the brow of a broad plateau of table-land, 
turned sharply by the Lugton, close under the castle walls — 
a natural site of singular beauty. Two Saracenic-looking 
tents of the gayest colors were pitched upon the bright green 
lawn at a short distance, and off to the left, by several glimpses 
through the trees, I traced along the banks of the river the 
winding enclosures for the procession. 

The large hall was crowded with servants ; but presuming 
that a knight who was to do his devoir so conspicuously on 



EGLINTON TOURNAMENT. lg3 



the morrow would not bo stirring at so early an hour, I took 
merely a glance of the armor upon the walls in passing, and 
deferring the honor of paying my respects, crossed the lawn 
and passed over the Lugton by a rustic footbridge in search 
of the lists. A crosspath (leading by a small temple enclosed 
with wire netting, once an aviary, perhaps, but now hung 
around in glorious profusion with game, vension, a boar's head, 
and other comestibles,) brought me in two or three minutes to 
a hill-side overlooking the chivalric arena. It was a beautiful 
sight of itself without plume or armor. In the centre of a ver- 
dant plain, shut in by hills of an easy slope, wooded richly, 
appeared an oblong enclosure glittering at either end with a 
cluster of tents, striped with the gayest colors of the rainbow. 
Between them, on the farther side, stood three galleries, of 
which the centre was covered with a Gothic roof highly 
ornamented, the four front pillars draped with blue damask, 
and supporting a canopy over the throne intended for the 
Queen of Beauty. A strongly-built barrier extended through 
the lists ; and heaps of lances, gay flags, and the heraldic 
ornaments, still to be added to the tents, lay around on the 
bright grass in a picture of no little richness. I was glad af 
terward that I had seen thus much with the advantage of an 
unclouded sun. / 

In returning, I passed in the rear of the castle, and looked 
into the temporary pavilions erected for the banquet and ball. 
They were covered exteriorly with rough board and sails, and 
communicated by an enclosed gallery with one of the larger 
apartments of the castle. The workmen were still nailing up 
the drapery, and arranging lamps and flowers ; but with all this 

disadvantage, the effect of the two immense halls, lined as they 
9 



194 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

were with crimson and white in broad alternate stripes, resem- 
bling in shape and fashion two gigantic tents, was exceed- 
ingly imposing. Had the magnificent design of Lord Eglin- 
ton been successfully carried out it would have been a scene, 
with the splendor of the costumes, the lights, music, and 
revelry unsurpassed probably by anything short of enchant- 
ment. 



Principal Day. — I was awakened at an early hour the morn- 
ing after arriving at Ardrossan by a band of music in the street. 
My first feeling was delight at seeing a bit of blue sky of the size 
of my garret skylight, and a dazzling sunshine on the floor. 
" Skirling" above all other instruments of the band, the High- 
land bagpipe made the air reel with " A' the blue bonnets are 
over the border," and, hoisting the window above my head, I 
strained over the house-leads to look at the performer. A band 
of a dozen men in kilt and bonnet were marching up and down, 
led by a piper, something in the face like the heathen repre- 
sentations of Boreas ; and on a line of roughly-constructed 
rail-cars were piled, two or three deep, a crowd resembling at 
first sight, a crushed bed of tulips. Bonnets of every cut and 
color, from the courtier's green velvet to the shepherd's home- 
ly g ra y> struggled at the top ; and over the sides hung red legs 
and yellow legs, cross barred stockings and buff boots, bare feet 
and pilgrim's sandals. The masqueraders scolded and laughed, 
the boys halloed, the quiet people of Ardrossan stared in grave 
astonishment, and, with the assistance of some brawny shoul- 






EGLINTON TOURAMENT. j 95 



ders, applied to the sides of the overladen vehicles, the one 
unhappy horse got his whimsical load under way for the tour- 
nament. 

Train followed train, packed with the same motley array ; 
and at ten o'clock, after a clean and comfortable Scotch 
breakfast in our host's little parlor, we sallied forth to try our 
luck in the scramble for places. After a considerable fight 
we were seated, each with a man in his lap, when we w 7 ere 
ordered down by the conductor, who informed us that the 
Chief of the Campbells had taken the car for his party, and 
that, with his band in the succeeding one, he was to go in 
state (upon a railroad !) to Eglinton. Up swore half-a-dozen 
Glasgow people, usurpers like ourselves, that they would give 
way for no Campbell in the world ; and finding a stout hand 
laid on my leg to prevent my yielding to the order to quit, I 
gave in to what might be called as pretty a bit of rebellious 
republicanism as you would find on the Mississippi. The 
conductor stormed, but the Scotch bodies sat firm ; and as 
Scot met Scot in the fight, I was content to sit in silence and 
take advantage of the victory. I learned afterwards that the 
Campbell Chieftain was a Glasgow manufacturer ; and though 
he undoubtedly had a right to gather his clan, and take piper 
and eagle's plume, there might, possibly, be some jealous 
disapprobation at the bottom of his townsmen's rudeness. 

Campbell and his party presently appeared, and a dozen or 
twenty very fine-looking men they were. One of the ladies, 
as well as I could see through the black lace veil thrown over 
her cap and plumes, was a remarkably handsome woman, and 
I was very glad when the matter was compromised, and the 
Campbells distributed among our company. We jogged on 



196 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



at a slow pace toward the tournament, passing thousands of 
pedestrians,- the men all shod, and the women all barefoot, 
with their shoes in their hands, and nearly every one, in ac- 
cordance with Lord Eglinton's printed request, showing some 
touch of fancy in his dress. A plaid over the shoulder, or a 
Glengary bonnet, or, perhaps, a goose-feather stuck jauntily 
in the cap, was enough to show the feeling of the wearer, and 
quite enough to give the crowd, all in all, a most festal and 
joyous aspect. 

The secluded bit of road between the rail track and the 
castle lodge, probably never before disturbed by more than 
two vehicles at a time, was thronged with a press of wheels, 
as closely jammed as Fleet street at noon. Countrymen's 
carts piled with women and children like loads of market bas- 
kets in Kent; post chaises with exhausted horses and occu- 
pants straining their eyes forward for a sight of the castle ; 
carriages of the neighboring gentry with " bodkins" and over- 
packed dickeys, all in costume ; stout farmers on horseback, 
with plaid and bonnet ; gingerbread and ale carts, pony carts, 
and coal carts ; wheelbarrows with baggage, and porters with 
carpet bags and hat boxes, were mixed up in merry confusion 
with the most motley throng of pedestrians it has ever been 
my fortune to join. The vari colored tide poured in at the 
open gate of the castle ; and if I had seen no other procession, 
the long-extended mass of caps, bonnets, and plumes, wind- 
ing through that shaded and beautiful avenue, would have 
repaid me for no small proportion of my subsequent discom- 
fort. I remarked, by the way, that I did not see a hat in the 
entire mile between the porter's lodge and the castle. 



EGLINTON TOURNAMENT. 197 

The stables, which lay on the left of the approach (a large 
square structure with turret and clock, very like four Metho- 
dist churches, dos-a-dos,) presented another busy and pictur- 
esque scene — horses half-caparisoned, men at- arms in buff and 
steel, and the gay liveries of the nineteenth century paled by 
the revived glories of the servitude of more knightly times. 
And this part of the scene, too, had its crowd of laughing and 
wondering spectators. 

On reaching the G-othic bridge over the Lugton, we came 
upon a cordon of police who encircled the castle, turning the 
crowd off by the bridge in the direction of the lists. Sorry to 
leave my merry and motley fellow-pedestrians, I presented my 
card of invitation and passed on alone to the castle. The sun 
was at this time shining with occasional cloudings-over ; and 
the sward and road, after the two or three fine days we had 
had, were in the best condition for every purpose of the tour- 
nament. 

Two or three noble trees with their foliage nearly to the 
ground stood between me and the front of the castle, as I as- 
cended the slope above the river ; and the lifting of a stage- 
curtain could scarce be more sudden, or the scene of a drama, 
more effectively composed, than the picture disclosed by the 
last step upon the terrace. Any just description of it, indeed, 
must read like a passage from the " prompter's book." I 
stood for a moment, exactly where you would have placed an 
audience. On my left rose a noble castle with four round 
towers, the entrance thronged with men-at-arms, and comers 
and goers in every variety of costume. On the greensward in 
front of the castle lounged three or four gentlemen archers in 
suits of green silk and velvet. A cluster of grooms under an im- 



198 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

mense tree on the right were fitting two or three superb horses 
with their armor and caparisons, while one beautiful blood pal- 
frey, whose fine limbs and delicately veined head and neck were 
alone visible under his embroidered saddle and gorgeous trap-, 
pings of silk, was held by two " tigers" at a short distance. Still 
farther on the right, stood a cluster of gayly decorated tents ; 
and in and out of the looped-up curtain of the farthest passed 
constantly the slight forms of lady archers in caps with snowy 
plumes, kirtles of green velvet, and petticoats of white satin, 
quivers at their backs and bows in their hands — one tall and 
stately girl (an Ayrshire lady of very uncommon beauty, 
whose name I took some pains to inquire,) conspicuous by her 
grace and dignity above all. 

The back-ground was equally well composed — the farther 
side of the lawn making a sharp descent to the small river 
which bends around the castle, the opposite shore thronged 
with thousands of spectators watching the scene I have 
described; and in the distance behind them, the winding 
avenue, railed in for the procession, hidden and disclosed by 
turns among the noble trees of the park, and alive throughout 
its whole extent with the multitudes crowding to the lists. 
There was a chivalric splendor in the whole scene, which I 
thought at the time would repay one for a long pilgrimage to 
see it — even should the clouds, which by this time were com- 
ing up very threateningly from the horizon, put a stop to the 
tournament altogether. 

On entering the castle hall, a lofty room hung round with 
arms, trophies of the chase, ancient shields, and armor of 
every description, I found myself in a crowd of a very merry 
and rather a motley character — knights half armed, esquires 



EGLINTON TOURNAMENT. igg 

in buff, palmers, halberdiers, archers, and servants in modern 
livery, here and there a lady, and here and there a spectator 
like myself, and in a corner by one of the Gothic windows — 
what think you ? — a minstrel ? — a gray-haired harper ? — a 
jester ? . Guess again — a reporter for the Times ! With a 
" walking dictionary" at his elbow, in the person of the fat 
butler of the castle, he was inquiring out the various charac- 
ters in the crowd, and the rapidity of his stenographic jottings- 
down (with their lucid apparition in print two days after in 
London) would in the times represented by the costumes 
about him, have burnt him at the stake for a wizard with the 
consent of every knight in Christendom. 

I was received by the knight-marshal of the lists, who did 
the honors of hospitality for Lord Eglington during his pre- 
paration for the " passage of arms ;" and finding an old friend 
under the gray beard and scallop shell of a venerable 
palmer, whose sandal and bare toes I chanced to stumble over, 
we passed in together to the large dining room of the castle. 
" Lunch" was on the long table, and some two hundred of the 
earl's out-lodging guests were busy at knife and fork, while 
here and there were visible some of those anachronisms which, 
to me, made the zest of the tournament — pilgrims eating Peri- 
gordpies, esquires dressing after the manner of the thirteenth 
century diving most scientifically into the richer veins of pates 
de foie-gras, dames in ruff and farthingale discussing blue 
blanc-mange, and a knight with an over-night headache calling 
out for a cup of tea ! 

On returning to the hall of the castle, which was the princi- 
pal place of assemblage, I saw with no little regret that ladies 
were coming from their carriages under umbrellas. The fair 



200 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



archers tripped in doors from their crowded tent, the knight 
of the dragon, who had been out to look after his charger, 
was being wiped dry by a friendly pocket handkerchief, and 
all countenances had fallen with the barometer. It was time 
for the procession to start, however, and the knights appeared, 
one by one, armed cap apie, all save the helmet, till at last the 
hall was crowded with steel-clad and chivalric forms ; and they 
waited only for the advent of the Queen of Beauty. After 
admiring not a little the manly bearing and powerful " thewes 
and sinews *' displayed by the array of modern English nobil- 
ity in the trying costumes and harness of olden time, 1 step- 
ped out upon the lawn with some curiosity to see how so 
much heavy metal was to be got into a demipique saddle. 
After one or two ineffectual attempts, foiled partly by the 
restlessness of his horse, the first knight called ingloriously for 
a chair. Another scrambled over with great difficulty ; and 
I fancy, though Lord Waterford and Lord Eglinton, and one 
other whom I noticed, mounted very gallantly and gracefully, 
the getting to saddle was possibly the most difficult feat of 
the day. The ancient achievement of leaping on the steed's 
back from the ground in complete armor would certainly have 
broken the spine of any horse present, and was probably never 
done but in story. Once in the saddle, however, English 
horsemanship told well ; and one of the finest sights of the 
day I thought was the breaking away of a powerful horse 
from the grooms, before his rider had gathered up his reins, 
and a career at furious speed through the open park, during 
which the steel encumbered horseman rode as safely as a fox- 
hunter, and subdued the affrighted animal, and brought him 



EGL1NT0N TOURNAMENT. 



201 



Dack in a stylo worthy of a wreath from the Queen of 
Beauty. 

Driven in by the rain, I was standing at the upper side of 
the hall, when a movement in the crowd and an unusual 
" making-way" announced the coming of the u cynosure of all 
eyes." She entered from the interior of the castle with her 
train held up by two beautiful pages of ten or twelve years 
of age, and attended by two fair and very young maids of 
honor. Her jacket of ermine, her drapery of violet and blue 
velvet, the collars of superb jewels which embraced her throat 
and bosom, and her sparkling crown, were on her (what they 
seldom are, but should be only) mere accessaries to her own 
predominating and radiant beauty. Lady Seymour's features 
are as nearly faultless as is consistent with expression ; her 
figure and face are rounded to the complete fulness of the 
mould for a Juno ; her walk is queenly, and peculiarly unstu- 
died and graceful, yet (I could not but think then and since) 
she was not well chosen for the Queen of a Tournament. The 
character of her beauty, uncommon and perfect as it is, is that 
of delicacy and loveliness — the lily rather than the rose — the 
modest pearl, not the imperial diamond. The eyes to flash 
over a crowd at a tournament, to be admired from a distance, 
to beam down upon a knight kneeling for a public award of 
honor, should be full of command, dark, lustrous, and fiery. 
Hers are of the sweetest and most tranquil blue that ever re- 
flected the serene heaven of a happy hearth — eyes to love, not 
wonder at, to adore and rely upon, not admire and tremble 
for. At the distance at which most of the spectators of the 
tournament saw Lady Seymour, Fanny Kemble's stormy orbs 

would have shown much finer, and the forced and imperative 
9* 



202 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



action of a stage-taught head and figure would have been 
more applauded than the quiet, nameless, and indescribable 
grace lost to all but those immediately round her. I had seen 
the Queen of Beauty in a small society, dressed in simple 
white, without an ornament, when she was far more becom- 
ingly dressed and more beautiful than here, and I have never 
seen, since, the engravings and prints of Lady Seymour 
which fill every window in the London shops, without feeling 
that it was a profanation of a style of loveliness that would 

be— 

" prodigal enough 

If it unveiled its beauty to the moon." 

The day wore on, and the knight-marshal of the lists, (Sir 
Charles Lamb, the stepfather of Lord Eglinton, by far the 
most knightly looking person at the tournament,) appeared in 
his rich surcoat and embossed armor, and with a despairing 
look at the increasing torrents of rain, gave the order to get 
to horse. At the first blast of the trumpet, the thick-leaved 
trees around the castle gave out each a dozen or two of gay- 
colored horsemen who had stood almost unseen under the low 
hanging branches — mounted musicians in silk and gay trap- 
pings, mounted men-at-arms in demi-suits of armor, deputy 
marshals and halberdiers ; and around the western tower, 
where their caparisons had been arranged and their horse 
armor carefully looked to, rode the glittering and noble com- 
pany of knights, Lord Eglinton in his armor of inlaid gold, 
and Lord Alford, with his athletic frame and very handsome 
features, conspicuous above all. The rain, meantime, spared 
neither the rich tabard of the pursuivant, nor the embroidered 
saddle cloths of the queen's impatient palfrey : and after a 



EGLINTON TOUItAMENT. 2()3 



half-dozen of dripping detachments had formed and led on, as 
the head of the procession, the lady archers — who were to go 
on foot — were called by the marshal with a smile and a glance 
upward which might have been construed into a tacit advice 
to stay in doors. Gracefully and majestically, however, with 
quiver at her back, and bow in hand, the tall and fair archer 
of whose uncommon beauty I have already spoken, stepped 
from the castle door; and, regardless of the rain which fell 
in drops as large as pearls on her unprotected forehead and 
snowy shoulders, she took her place in the procession with her 
silken-booted troop picking their way very gingerly over the 
pools behind her. Slight as the circumstance may seem, there 
was in the manner of the lady, and her calm disregard of self 
in the cause she had undertaken, which would leave me in no 
doubt where to look for a heroine were the days of Wallace, 
(whose compatriot she is) to come over again. The knight- 
marshal put spurs to his horse, and re-ordered the little 
troop to the castle ; and regretting that I had not the honor 
of the lady's acquaintance for my authority, I performed my 
only chivalric achievement for the day, the sending a halber- 
dier whom I had chanced to remember as the servant of an 
old friend, on a crusade into the castle for a lady's maid and 
a pair of dry stockings ! Whether they were found, and the 
fair archer wore them, or where she and her silk-shod compa- 
ny have the tournament consumption, rheumatism, or cough, 
at this hour, I am sorry I cannot say. 

The judge of peace, Lord Saltoun, with his wand, and re- 
tainers on foot bearing heavy battle axes, was one of the best 
iigures in the procession ; though, as he was slightly gray, 
and his ruby velvet cap and saturated ruff were poor sub- 



204 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



stitutes for a warm cravat and hat-brim, I could not but asso- 
ciate his fine horsemanship with a sore throat, and his retain- 
ers and their battle axes with relays of nurses and hot flannels. 
The flower of the tournament, in the representing and keeping 
up of the assumed character, however, was its king, Lord 
Londonderry. He, too, is a man, I should think, on the 
shady side of fifty, but of just the high preservation and em- 
bonpoint necessary for a royal presence. His robe of red vel- 
vet and ermine swept the ground as he sat in his saddle ; and 
he managed to keep its immense folds free of his horse's legs, 
and yet to preserve its flow in his prancing motion, with a 
grace and ease, I must say, which seemed truly imperial. — 
His palfrey was like a fiery Arabian, all action, nerve, and 
fire ; and every step was a rearing prance, which, but for the 
tranquil self-possession and easy control of the king, would 
have given the spectators some fears for his royal safety. 
Lord Londonderry's whole performance of his part was with- 
out a fault, and chiefly admirable, I thought, from his sus- 
taining it with that unconsciousness and entire freedom from 
mauvaise lionte which the English seldom can command in new 
or conspicuous situations. 

The Queen of Beauty was called, and her horse led to the 
door ; but the water ran from the blue saddle cloth and hous- 
ings like rain from a roof, and the storm seemed to have in- 
creased with the sound of her name. She came to the door, 
and gave a deprecating look upward which would have molli- 
fied any thing but a Scotch sky, and, by command of the 
knight marshal, retired again to wait for a less chivalric but 
drier conveyance. Her example was followed by the other 
ladies, and their horses were led riderless in the procession. 



EGLINTON TOURAMENT. 2()5 



The knights were but half called when I accepted a friend's 
kind offer of a seat in his carriage to the lists. The entire 
park, as we drove along, was one vast expanse of umbrellas ; 
and it looked from the carriage window, like an army of ani- 
mated and gigantic mushrooms, shouldering each other in a 
march. I had no idea till then of the immense crowd the oc- 
casion had called together. The circuitous route railed in for 
the procession was lined with spectators six or seven deep, on 
either side, throughout its whole extent of a mile ; the most 
distant recesses of the park were crowded with men, horses, 
and vehicles, all pressing onward ; and as we approached the 
lists, we found the multitude full a quarter of a mile deep, 
standing on all the eminences which looked down upon the 
enclosure, as ck>sely serried almost as the pit of the opera, 
and all eyes bent in one direction, anxiously watching the 
guarded entrance. I heard the number of persons present 
variously estimated during the day, the estimates ranging from 
fifty to seventy-five thousand, but I should think the latter 
was nearer the mark. 

We presented our tickets at the private door, in the rear 
of the principal gallery, and found ourselves introduced to a 
very dry place among the supports and rafters of the privileged 
structure. The look-out was excellent in front, and here I 
proposed to remain, declining the wet honor of a place above 
stairs. The gentleman-usher, however, was very urgent for 
our promotion ; but as we found him afterward chatting very 
familiarly with a party who occupied the seats we had selected, 
we were compelled to relinquish the flattering unction that he 
was actuated by an intuitive sense of our deservings. On 
ascending to the covered gallery, I saw, to my surprise, that 



206 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



some of the best seats in front were left vacant, and here and 
there, along the different tiers of benches, ladies were crowd- 
ing excessively close together, while before or behind them 
there seemed plenty of unoccupied room. A second look 
showed me small streams of water coming through the roof, 
and I found that a dry seat was totally unattainable. The 
gallery held about a thousand persons (the number Lord Eg- 
linton had invited to the banquet and ball,) and the greater 
part of these were ladies, most of them in fancy dresses, and 
the remainder in very slight demi-toilette — everybody having 
dressed apparently with a full reliance on the morning's pro- 
mise of fair weather. Less fortunate than the multitude out- 
side the Earl's guests seemed not to have numbered umbrellas 
among the necessities of a tournament ; and the demand for 
this despised invention was sufficient (if merit was ever 
rewarded) to elevate it for ever after to a rank among chivalric 
appointments. Substitutes and imitations of it were made of 
swords and cashmeres; and the lenders of veritable umbrellas 
received smiles which should induce them, one would think, 
to carry half-a-dozen to all future tournaments in Scotland. 
It was pitiable to see the wreck going on among the perish- 
able elegancies of Victorine and Herbault — chip hats of the 
most faultless tournure collapsing with the wet ; starched ruffs 
quite flat ; dresses passing helplessly from " Lesbia's" style to 
"Nora£reina's;" shawls, tied by anxious mammas over chapeau 
and coiffure, crushing pitilessly the delicate fabric of months of 
invention ; and, more lamentable still, the fair brows and shoul- 
ders of many a lovely woman proving with rainbow clearness 
that the colors of the silk or velvet composing her head-dress 
were by no means 'fast.' The Irvine archers, by the way, who as 



EGLINTON TOURNAMENT. 2 q 7 



the Queen's body guard, were compelled to expose themselves 
to the rain on the grand staircase, resembled a troop of New 
Zealanders with their faces tattooed of a delicate green ; though, 
as their Lincoln bonnets were all made of the same faithless 
velvet, they were fortunately streaked so nearly alike as to 
preserve their uniform. . 

After a brief consultation between the rheumatisms in my 
different limbs, it was decided (since it was vain to hope 
for shelter for the entire person) that my cloth cap would be 
the best recipient for the inevitable wet ; and selecting the 
best of the vacated places, I seated myself so as to receive one 
of the small streams as nearly as possible on my organ of 
firmness. Here I was undisturbed, except once that I was 
asked, (my seat supposed to be a dry one) to give place for a 
lady newly arrived, who, receiving my appropriated rivulet in 
her neck, immediately restored it to me with many acknowledg 
ments, and passed on. In point of position, my seat, which 
was very near the pavilion of the Queen of Beauty, was one 
of the best at the tournament; and diverting my aqueduct, by 
a little management, over my left shoulder, I contrived to be 
more comfortable, probably, than most of my shivering and 
melancholy neighbors. 

A great agitation in the crowd, and a dampish sound of 
coming trumpets announced the approach of the procession. As 
it came in sight, and wound along the curved passage to the 
lists, its long and serpentine line of helmets and glittering 
armor, gonfalons, spear-points, and plumes, just surging 
above the moving sea of umbrellas, had the effect of some gor- 
geous and bright-scaled dragon swimming in troubled waters. 
The leaders of the long cavalcade pranced into the arena at 



oQg FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



last, and a tremendous shout from the multitude announced 
their admiration of the spectacle. On they came toward the 
canopy of the Queen of Beauty, men-at-arms, trumpeters, her- 
alds, and halberdiers, and soon after them the king of the 
tournament, with his long scarlet robe flying to the tempest, 
and his rearing palfrey straining every nerve to show his 
pride and beauty. The first shout from the principal gallery 
was given in approbation of this display of horsemanship, as 
Lord Londonderry rode past; and considering the damp 
enthusiasm which prompted it, it should have been considered 
rather flattering. Lord Eglinton came on presently, distin- 
guished above all others no less by the magnificence of his 
appointments than by the ease and dignity with which he 
rode, and his knightly bearing and stature. His golden 
armor sat on him as if he had been used to wear it ; and he 
managed his beautiful charger, and bowed in reply to the 
reiterated shouts of the multitude and his friends, with a 
grace and chivalric courtesy which drew murmurs of applause 
from the spectators long after the cheering had subsided. 

The jester rode into the lists upon a gray steed, shaking his 
bells over his head, and dressed in an odd costume of blue and 
3 7 ellow, with a broad flapped hat, asses' ears, &c. His charac- 
ter was not at first understood by the crowd, but he soon 
began to excite merriment by his jokes, and no little admi- 
ration by his capital riding. He was a professional person, I 
think it was said, from Astley's, but as he spoke with a most 
excellent Scotch " burr," he easily passed for an indigenous 
" fool." He rode from side to side of the lists during the 
whole of the tournament, borrowing umbrellas,, quizzing the 
knights, &c. 



EGLINTON TOURNAMENT. 209 

One of the most striking features of the procession was the 
turn-out of the knight of the Gael, Lord Glenlyon, with sev- 
enty of his clansmen at his back in plaid and philibeg, and a 
finer exhibition of calves (without a joke) could scarce be de- 
sired. They followed their chieftain on foot, and when the 
procession separated, took up their places in a line along the 
palisade serving as a guard to the lists. 

After the procession had twice made the circuit of the 
enclosure, doing obeisance to the Queen of Beauty, the jester 
had possession of the field while the knights retired to don 
their helmets, (hitherto carried by their esquires,) and to 
await the challenge to combat. All eyes were now bent upon 
the gorgeous clusters of tents at either extremity of the oblong 
area ; and in a very few minutes the herald's trumpet sound- 
ed, and the Knight of the Swan rode forth, having sent his 
defiance to the Knight of the Golden Lion. At another blast 
of the trumpet they set their lances in rest, selected opposite 
sides of the long fence or barrier running lengthwise through 
the lists, and rode furiously past each other, the fence of 
course preventing any contact except that of their lances. 
This part of the tournament (the essential part, one would 
think) was, from the necessity of the case, the least satisfactory 
of all. The knights, though they rode admirably, were so 
oppressed by the weight of their armor, and so embarrassed 
in their motions by the ill-adjusted joints, that they were like 
men of wood, unable apparently even to raise the lance from 
the thigh on which it rested. I presume no one of them 
either saw where he should strike his opponent, or had any 
power of directing the weapon. As they rode close to the 
fence, however, and a ten-foot pole sawed nearly off in two 



2 1 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



or three places was laid crosswise on the legs of each, it would 
be odd if they did not come in contact ; and the least shock 
of course splintered the lance — in other words, finished what 
was begun by the carpenter's saw. The great difficulty was 
to ride at all under such a tremendous weight, and manage a 
horse of spirit, totally unused both to the weight and the clat- 
ter of his own and his rider's armor. I am sure that Lord 
Eglinton's horse-, for one, would have bothered Ivanhoe him- 
self to " bring to the scratch ;" and Lord Waterford's was the 
only one that, for all the fright he showed, might have been 
selected (as they all should have been) for the virtue of having 
peddled tin-ware. These two knights, by the way, ran the 
best career, Lord Eglinton, malgre his bolter, coming off the 
victor. «• 

The rain, meantime, had increased to a deluge, the Queen 
of Beauty sat shivering under an umbrella, the jester's long 
ears were water-logged, and lay flat on his shoulders, and 
everybody in my neighborhood had expressed a wish for a dry 
seat and a glass of sherry. The word " banquet" occurred 
frequently right and left ; hopes for " mulled wine or some- 
thing hot before dinner" stole from the lips of a mamma on 
the seat behind ; and there seemed to be but one chance for 
the salvation of health predominant in the minds of all — and, 
that w r as drinking rather more freely than usual at the ap- 
proaching banquet. Judge what must have been the aston- 
ishment, vexation, dread, and despair, of the one thousand 
wet, shivering, and hungry candidates for the feast, when 
Lord Eglinton rode up to the gallery unhelmeted, and deliv- 
ered himself as follows : — 






EGL1NT0N TOURNAMENT. 



211 



" Ladies and gentlemen, I had hoped to have given you all 
a good dinner ; but to my extreme mortification and regret, I 
am just informed that the rain has penetrated the banqueting 
pavilions, and that, in consequence, I shall only be able to 
entertain so many of my friends as can meet around my 
ordinary table." 

About as uncomfortable a piece of intelligence to some nine 
hundred and sixty of his audience, as they could have received, 
short of a sentence for their immediate execution. 

To comprehend fully the disastrous extent of the disap- 
pointment in the principal gallery, it must be taken into con- 
sideration that the domicils, fixed or temporary, of the reject- 
ed sufferers, were from five to twenty miles distant — a long 
ride at best, if begun on the point of famishing, and in very 
thin and well-saturated fancy dresses. Grievance the first, 
however, was nothing to grievance the second ; viz. that from 
the tremendous run upon post-horses, and horses of all de- 
scriptions, during the three or four previous days, the getting 
to the tournament was the utmost that many parties could 
achieve. The nearest baiting-place was several miles off; and 
in compassion to the poor beasts, and with the weather prom- 
ising fair on their arrival, most persons had consented to take 
their chance for the quarter of a mile from the lists to the cas- 
tle, and had dismissed their carriages with orders to return 
at the close of the banquet and ball — daylight the next morn- 
ing ! The castle, every body knew, was crammed, from 
" donjon-keep to turret-top," with the relatives and friends of 
the noble earl, and his private table could accommodate no 
more than these. To get home was the inevitable alternative. 

The rain poured in a deluge. The entire park was trodden 



2 12 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

into a slough, or standing in pools of water — carts, carriages, 
and horsemen, with fifty thousand flying pedestrians, crowd- 
ing every road and avenue. How to get home with a car- 
riage ! How the deuce to get home without one ! 

A gentleman who had been sent out on the errand of Noah's 
dove by a lady whose carriage and horses were ordered at 
four the following morning, came back with the mud up to 
his knees, and reported that there was not a wheelbarrow to 
be had for love or money. After threading the crowd in eve- 
ry direction, he had offered a large sum, in vain, for a one- 
horse cart ! 

Night was coming on, meantime, very fast; but absorbed 
by the distresses of the shivering groups around me, I had 
scarce remembered that my own invitation was but to the 
banquet and ball — and my dinner, consequently, nine miles 
off, at Ardrossan. Thanking Heaven, that, at least, I had no 
ladies to share my evening's pilgrimage, I followed the Queen 
of Beauty down the muddy and slippery staircase, and, when 
her majesty had stepped into her carriage, I stepped over an- 
kles in mud and water, and began my wade toward the 
castle. 

Six hours of rain, and the trampling of such an immense 
multitude of men and horses, had converted the soft and moist 
sod and soil of the park into a deep and most adhesive quag- 
mire. Glancing through the labyrinth of vehicles on every 
side, and seeing men and horses with their feet completely 
sunk below the surface, I saw that there was no possibility of 
shying the matter, and that wade was the word. I thought at 
first, that I had a claim for a little sympathy on the score of 
being rather slenderly shod (the impalpable sole of a pattern 






EGLINTON TOURNAMENT. 



213 



leather boot being all that separated me from the subsoil of 
the estate of Eglinton ;) but overtaking, presently, a party of 
four ladies who had lost several shoes in the mire, and were 
positively wading on in silk stockings, I took patience to my- 
self from my advantage in the comparison, and thanked fate 
for the thinnest sole with leather to keep it on. The ladies I 
speak of were under the charge of a most despairing-looking 
gentleman, but had neither cloak nor umbrella, and had evi- 
dently made no calculations for a walk. We differed in our 
choice of the two sides of a slough, presently, and they were 
lost in the crowd ; but I could not help smiling, with all my 
pity of their woes, to think what a turning up of prunella 
shoes there will be, should Lord Eglinton ever plough the 
chivalric field of the Tournament. 

As I reached the castle, I got upon the Macadamised road, 
which had the advantage of a bottom someivhere, though it 
was covered with a liquid mud, of which every passing foot 
gave you a spatter to the hips. My exterior was by this time 
equally divided between water and dirt, and I trudged on in 
comfortable fellowship with farmers, coal-miners, and Scotch 
lasses — envying very much the last, for they carried their 
shoes in their hands, and held their petticoats, to say the 
least, clear of the mud. Many a good joke they seemed to 
have among them, but as they spoke in Gaelic, it was lost on 
my Sassenach ears. 

I had looked forward with a faint hope to a gingerbread 
and ale-cart, which I remembered having seen in the morning 
established near the terminus of the railroad, trusting to re- 
fresh my strength and patience with a glass of anything that 
goes under the generic name of " summat ;" but though the 



214 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



cart was there, the gingerbread shelf was occupied by a row 
of Scotch lasses, crouching together under cover from the 
rain, and the pedlar assured me that " there wasna a drap o' 
speerit to be got within ten mile o' the castle. One glance at 
the railroad, where a car with a single horse was beset by- 
some thousands of shoving and fighting applicants, convinced 
me that I had a walk of eight miles to finish my " purgation 
by" tournament; and as it was getting too dark to trust. to 
any picking of the way, I took the middle of the rail-track, and 
set forward. 

" Oh, but a weary wight was he 

When he reached the foot of the dogwood tree." 

Eight miles in a heavy rain, with boots of the consistence 
of brown paper, and a road of alternate deep mud and broken 
stone, should entitle one to the green turban. I will make 
the pilgrimage of a Hadjii from the " farthest inn " with half 
the endurance. 

I found my Liverpool friends over a mutton chop in the 
snug parlor of our host, and with a strong brew of hot toddy, 
and many a laugh at the day's adventures by land and water, 
we got comfortably to bed " somewhere in the small hours." 
And so ended (for me) the great day of the tournament. 

After witnessing the disasters of the first day, the demoli- 
tion of costumes, and the perils by water, of masqueraders 
and spectators, it was natural to fancy that the tournament 
was over. So did not seem to think several thousands of 
newly-arrived persons, pouring from steamer after steamer 
upon the pier of Ardrossan, and in every variety of costume, 
from the shepherd's maud to the courtier's satin, crowding to 
the rail cars from Eglinton. It appeared from the chance 



EGLINTON TOURNAMENT. 215 

remarks of one or two who came to our lodgings to deposite 
their carpet bags, that it had rained very little in the places 
from which the steamers had come, and that they had calcu- 
lated on the second as the great day of the joust. No dissua- 
sion had the least effect upon them, and away they went, be- 
decked and merry, the sufferers of the day before looking out 
upon them, from comfortable hotel and lodging, with pro- 
phetic pity. 

At noon the sky brightened ; and as the cars were running 
by this time with diminished loads, I parted from my agree- 
able friends, and bade adieu to my garret at Ardrossan. I 
was bound to Ireland, and my road lay by Eglinton to Irvine 
and Ayr. Fellow-passengers with me were twenty or thirty 
men in Glengary bonnets, plaids, &c. ; and I came in for my 
share of the jeers and jokes showered on them by the passengers 
in the return-cars, as men bound on a fruitless errand. As we 
neared the castle, the crowds of people with disconsolate faces 
waiting for conveyances, or standing by the reopened ginger- 
bread carts in listless idleness, convinced my companions, at 
last, that there was nothing to be seen, for that day at least, 
at Eglinton. I left them sitting on the cars, undecided 
whether to go on or return without losing their places ; and 
seeing a coach marked " Irvine" standing in the road, I jumped 
m without question or ceremony. It belonged to a private 
party of gentlemen, who were to visit the custle and tilting- 
ground on their way to Irvine ; and as they very kindly insis- 
ted on my remaining after I had apologised for the intrusion, 
I found myself " booked" for a glimpse of the second day's 
attractions. 

The avenue to the castle was as crowded as on the day 



216 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



before ; but it was curious to remark how the general aspect 
of the multitude was changed by the substitution of disappoint- 
ment for expectation. The lagging gait and surly silence, 
instead of the elastic step and merry joke, seemed to have 
darkened the scene more than the withdrawal of the sun, and 
I was glad to wrap myself in my cloak, and remember that 
I was on the wing. The banner flying at the castle tower was 
the only sign of motion I could see in its immediate vicinity ; 
the sail-cloth coverings of the pavilion were dark with wet ; the 
fine sward was everywhere disfigured with traces of mud, and 
the whole scene was dismal and uncomfortable. We kept on 
to the lists, and found them, as one of my companions ex- 
pressed it, more like a cattle pen after a fair than a scene of 
pleasure — trodden, wet, miry, and deserted. The crowd, 
content to view them from a distance, were assembled around 
the large booths on the ascent of the rising ground toward the 
castle, where a band was playing some merry reels, and the 
gingerbread and ale venders plied a busy vocation. A look 
was enough ; and we shaped our course for Irvine, sympa- 
thizing deeply with the disappointment of the high-spirited 
and generous Lord of the Tourney. I heard at Irvine, and 
farther on, that the tilting would be renewed, and the ban- 
quet and ball given on the succeeding days ; but after the 
wreck of dresses and peril of health I had witnessed, I was 
persuaded that the best that could be done would be but a 
slender patching up of the original glories as well as a halting 
rally of the original spirits of the tournament. So I kept 
on my way. 






TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 



LONDON. 



There is an inborn and inbred distrust of " foreigners" in 
England — continental foreigners, I should say — which keeps 
the current of French and Italian society as distinct amid the 
sea of London, as the blue Ehone in Lake Leman. The 
word " foreigner," in England, conveys exclusively the idea 
of a dark-complexioned and whiskered individual, in a frogged 
coat and distressed circumstances ; and to introduce a smooth- 
cheeked, plainly-dressed, quiet-lookmg person by that name, 
would strike any circle of ladies and gentlemen as a palpable 
misnomer. The violent and unhappy contrast between the 
Parisian's mode of life in London and in Paris, makes it 
very certain that few of those bien nes et conv enablement riches 
10 



218 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

will live in London for pleasure ; and then the flood of politi- 
cal emigres, for the last half-century, has monopolised hair- 
dressing, &c, &c., to such a degree, that the word French- 
man is synonymous in English ears with barber and dancing- 
master. If a dark gentleman, wearing either whisker or 
mustache, chance to offend John Bull in the street, the first 
opprobrious language he hears — the strongest that occurs to 
the fellow's mind — is " Get out, you Frenchman !" 

All this, malgre the rage for foreign lions in London society. 
A well-introduced foreigner gets easiiy into this, and while he : 
keeps his cabriolet and confines himself to frequenting soirees 
and accepting invitations to dine, he will never suspect that he 
is not on an equal footing with any " milor" in London. If he 
wishes to be disenchanted, he has only to change his lodg- 
ings from Long's to Great Russell street, or (bitterer and 
readier trial) to propose marriage to the honorable Augusta 
or Lady Fanny. 

Everybody who knows the society of Paris knows something 
of a handsome and very elegant young baron of the Faubourg 
St. Germain, who, with small fortune, very great taste, and 
greater credit, contrived to go on very swimmingly as 
an adorable roue and vaurien till he was hard upon twenty- 
five. At the first crisis in his affairs, the ladies, who hold all 
the politics in their laps, got him appointed consul to Algiers, 
or minister to Venezuela, and with this pretty pretext for 
selling his horses and dressing-gowns, these cherished articles 
brought twice their original value and saved his loyaute, and 
set him up in fans and monkeys at his place of exile. A year 
of this was enough for the darling of Paris, and not more than 
a day before his desolate loves would have ceased to mourn for 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 



219 



him, he galloped into his hotel with a new fashion of whiskers, a 
black female slave, and the most delicious histories of his ad- 
ventures during the ages he had been exiled. Down to the 
earth and their previous obscurity dropped the rivals who 
were just beginning to usurp his glories. -A new stud, an in- 
describable vehicle, a suite of rooms a PAfricaine, and a mys- 
tery, preserved at some expense, about his negress, kept all 
Paris, including his new creditors, in admiring astonishment 
for a year. Among the crowd of his worshippers, not the last 
or least fervent, were the fair-haired and glowing beauties 
who assemble at the levees of their ambassador in the Eue St. 
Honore, and upon whom le beau Adolphe had looked as pretty 
savages, whose frightful toilets and horrid French accent 
might be tolerated one evening in the week — vu le souper ! 

Eclipses will arrive as calculated by insignificant astrono- 
mers, however, and debts will become due as presumed by 
vulgar tradesmen. Le beau Adolphe began to see another 
crisis, and betook himself to his old advisers, who were desoles 
to the last degree ; but there was a new government, and the 
blood of the Faubourg was at a discount. No embassies 
were to be had for nothing- With a deep sigh, and a gentle 
tone, to spare his feelings as much as possible, his friend ven- 
tures to suggest to him that it will be necessary to sacrifice 
himself. 

" Ahi / mats comment /" 

" Marry one of these betes A?iglaises, who drink you up 
with their great blue eyes, and are made of gold !" 

Adolph buried his face in his gold-fringed oriental pocket 
handkerchief; but when the first agony was passed, his reso- 
lution was taken, and he determined to go to England. The 



220 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

first beautiful creature he should see, whose funds were enor- 
mous and well-invested, should bear away from all the love, 
rank, and poverty of France, the perfumed hand he looked 
upon. 

A flourishing letter, written in a small, cramped hand, but 
with a seal on whose breadth of wax and blazon all the united 
heraldry of France w r as interwoven, arrived, through the am- 
bassador's despatch box, to the address of Miladi , 

Belgrave square, announcing, in full, that lebeau Adolphe was 
coming to London to marry the richest heiress in good society 
— and as Paris could not spare him more than a week, he i 
wished those who had daughters to marry, answering the de- 
scription, to be Men prevenus of his visit and errand. With 
the letter came a compend of his genealogy, from the man 
who spoke French in the confusion of Babel to le dit Baron 
Adolphe. 

To London came the valet of le beau baron, two days be- 
fore his master, bringing his slippers and dressing gown to be 
aired after their sea voyage across the channel. To London 
followed the irresistible youth, cursing, in the politest French, 
the necessity which subtracted a week from a life measured 
with such " diamond sparks " as his own in Paris. He sat 
himself down in his hotel, sent his man Porphyre with his card 
to every noble and rich house, whose barbarian tenants he had 
ever seen in the Champs Elysees, and waited the result. In- 
vitations from fair ladies, who remembered him as the man 
the French belles were mad about, and from literary ladies, 
who wanted his whiskers and black eyes to give their soirees 
the necessary foreign complexion, flowed in on all sides, an 
Monsieur Adolphe selected his most mignon cane and his hap 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. ^ 



piest design in a stocking, and "rendered himself" through 
the rain like a martyr. 

No offers of marriage the first evening ! 

None the second ! ! 

None the third ! ! ! 

Le beau Adolphe began to think either that English papas 
did not propose their daughters to people as in France ; or, 
perhaps, that the lady whom he had commissioned to circu- 
late his wishes had not sufficiently advertised him. She had, 
however. 

He took advice, and found it would be necessary to take 
the first step himself. This was disagreeable, and he said to 
himself, " Lejeu ne vautpas la chandelle /" but his youth was 
passing, and his English fortune was at interest. 

He went to Almack's, and proposed to the first authentica- 
ted fortune that accepted his hand for a waltz. The young 
lady first laughed, and then told her mother, who told her 
son, who thought it an insult, and called out le beau Adolphe, 
very much to the astonishment of himself and Porphyre. The 
thing was explained, and the baron looked about the next day 
for one pas si bete. Found a young lady with half a million 
sterling, proposed in a morning call, and was obliged to ring 
for assistance, his intended having gone into convulsions with 
laughing at him. The story by this time had got pretty well 
distributed through the different strata of London society ; — 
and when le beau Adolphe, convinced that he would not suc- 
ceed with the noble heiresses of JBelgrave square, condescend- 
ed, in his extremity, to send his heart by his valet to a rich 
little vulgarian, who " never had a grandfather," and lived in 
Harley street, he narrowly escaped being prosecuted for a 



222 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



nuisance, and, Paris being now in possession of the enemy, he 
buried his sorrows in Belgium. After a short exile his friends 
procured him a vice -consulate in some port in the North Sea, 
and there probably at this moment he sorrowfully vegetates. 

This is not a story founded upon fact, but literally true. — 
Many of the circumstances came under my own observation ; 
and the whole thus affords a laughable example of the esteem 
in which what an English fox-hunter would call a " trashy 
Frenchman" is held in England, as well as of the travestie 
produced by transplanting the usages of one country to 
another. 

Ridiculous as any intimate mixture of English and French 
ideas and persons seems to be in London, the foreign society 
of itself in that capital is exceedingly spiritual and agreeable. 
The various European embassies and their attaches, with their 
distinguished travellers, from their several countries, acciden- 
tally belonging to each ; the F rench and Italians, married to 
English noblemen and gentry, and living in London, and the 
English themselves, who have become cosmopolite by resi- 
dence in other countries, form a very large society in which 
mix, on perfectly equal terms, the first singers of the opera, 
and foreign musicians and artists generally. This last cir- 
cumstance gives a peculiar charm to these reunions, though it 
imparts a pride and haughty bearing to the prima donna and 
her fraternity, which is, at least, sometimes very inconvenient 
to themselves. The remark recalls to my mind a scene I once 
witnessed in London, which will illustrate the feeling better 
than an essay upon it. 

I was at one of those private concerts given at an enormous 
expense during the opera season, at which"" assisted" Julia 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. ^% 



Grisi, Rubini, Lablache, Tamburini, and Ivanhoff, Grisi 
came in the carriage of a foreign lady of rank, toko had dined 
with her, and she walked into the room looking like an em- 
press. She was dressed in the plainest w'hite, with her glossy- 
hair put smooth from her brow, and a single white japonica 
dropped over one of her temples. The lady who brought her 
chaperoned her during the evening, as if she had been her 
daughter, and under the excitement of her own table and the 
kindness of her friends, she sung with a rapture and a freshet 
of glory (if one may borrow a word from the Mississippi) 
which set all hearts on fire. She surpassed her most ap- 
plauded hour on the stage — for it was worth her while. The 
audience was composed, almost exclusively, of those who are 
not only cultivated judges, but who sometimes repay delight 
with a present of diamonds. 

Lablache shook the house to its foundations in his turn; 
Rubini ran through his miraculous compass with the ease, 
truth, and melody, for which his singing is unsurpassed ; Tam- 
burini poured his rich and even fullness on the ear, and Rus- 
sian Ivanhoff, the one southern singing-bird who has come 
out of the north, wire-drew his fine and spiritual notes, till 
they who had been flushed, and tearful, and silent, when the 
others had sang, drowned his voice in the poorer applause of 
exclamation and surprise. 

The concert was over by twelve, the gold and silver paper 
bills of the performance were turned into fans, and every one 
was waiting till supper should be announced — the prima donna 
still sitting by her friend, but surrounded by foreign attaches^ 
and in the highest elation at her own success. The doors of 
an inner suite of rooms were thrown open at last, and Grisi's 



^24 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

-ordon of admirers prepared to follow her in and wait on her 
it supper. At this moment, one of the powdered menials 
of the house stepped up and informed her very respectfully 
that supper ivas prepared in a separate room for the singers! 

Medea, in her most tragic hour, never stood so absolutely 
the picture of hate as did Grisi for a single instant, in the cen- 
tre of that aristocratic crowd. Her chest swelled and rose, 
her lips closed over her snowy teeth, and compressed till the 
pressed till the blood left them, and, for myself, I looked uncon- 
sciously to see where she would strike. I knew, then, that 
there was more than fancy — there was nature and capability 
of the real — in the imaginary passions she plays so powerfully. 
A laugh of extreme amusement at the scene from the high- 
born woman who had accompanied her, suddenly turned her hu- 
mor, and she stopped in the midst of a muttering of Italian, in 
which I could distinguish only the terminations, and, with a 
sort of theatrical quickness of transition, joined heartily in her 
mirth. It was immediately proposed by this lady, however, 
that herself and their particular circle should join the insulted 
prima donna at the lower table, and they succeeded by this 
manoeuvre in retaining Rubini and the others, who were 
leaving the house in a most unequivocal Italian fury. 

I had been fortunate enough to be included in the invitation, 
and with one or two foreign diplomatic men, I followed Grisi 
and her amused friend to a small room on a lower floor, that 
seemed to be the housekeeper's parlor. Here supper was set 
for six (including the man who had played the piano,) and on 
the side-table stood every variety of wine and fruit, and there 
was nothing in the supper, at least, to make us regret the table 
we had left. With a most imperative gesture and rather an 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 225 



amusing attempt at English, Grisi ordered the servants out of 
the room, and locked the door, and from that moment the con- 
versation commenced and continued in their own musical, pas- 
sionate, and energetic Italian. My long residence in that 
country had made me at home in it ; every one present spoke 
it fluently ; and I had an opportunity I might never have again, 
of seeing with what abandonment these children of the sun 
throw aside rank and distinction (yet without forgetting it,) 
and join with those who are their superiors in every circum- 
stance of life in the gayeties of a chance hour. 

Out of their own country these singers would probably ac- 
knowledge no higher rank than that of the kind and gifted lady 
who was their guest ; yet, with the briefest apology at finding 
the room too cold after the heat of the concert, they put on 
their cloaks and hats as a safeguard to their lungs (more valu- 
able to them than to others;) and as most of the cloaks were 
the worse for travel, and the hats were opera-hats with two cor- 
ners, the grotesque contrast with the diamonds of one lady, and 
the radiant beauty of the other, may easily be imagined. 

Singing should be hungry work, by the knife and fork 
they played ; and between the excavations of truffle pies, and 
the bumpers of champagne and burgundy, the words were few. 
Lablache appeared to be an established droll, and every syllable 
he found time to utter was received with the most unbounded 
laughter. Kubini could not recover from the slight he con- 
ceived put upon him and his profession by the separate table ; 
and he continually reminded Grisi, who by this time had quite 
recovered her good humor, that, the night before, supping at 
Devonshire house, the Duke of Wellington had held her gloves 
10* 



226 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



on one side, while His Grace, their host attended to her on 
the other. 

" E vero /" said Ivanhoff, with a look of modest admiration 
at the prima donna. 

" E vero, e bravo /" cried Tamburini, with his sepulchral- 
talking tone, much deeper than his singing. 

" Si, si, si, bravo /" echoed all the company ; and the haughty j 
and happy actress nodded all round with a radiant smile, and 
repeated, in her silver tones, u Grazie ! cari amid ! grazie /" 

As the servants had been turned out, the removal of the 
first course was managed in pic nic fashion ; and when the 
fruit and fresh bottles of wine were set upon the table by the 
attaches, and younger gentlemen, the health of the Princess 
who honored them by her presence was proposed in that lan- 
guage, which, it seems to me, is more capable than all others 
of expressing affectionate and respectful devotion. All uncov- 
ered and stood up, and Grisi, with tears in her eyes, kissed the 
hand of her benefactress and friend, and drank her health in 
silence. 

It is a polite and common accomplishment in Italy to impro- 
vise in verse, and the lady I speak of is well known among her 
immediate friends for a singular facility in this beautiful art. 
She reflected a moment or two with the moisture in her eyes, 
and then commenced, low and soft, a poem, of which it would 
be difficult, nay impossible, to convey, in English, an idea of 
its music and beauty. It took us back to Italy, to its heavenly 
climate, its glorious arts, its beauty and its ruins, and conclu- 
ded with a line of which I remember the sentiment to have 
been, " oat of Italy every land is exile /" 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 227 



The glasses were raised as she ceased, and every one repeated 
after her, " Fuori cV Italia tutto e esiliof" 

" Ma /" cried out the fat Lablache, holding up bis glass 
of champagne, and looking through it with one eye, " siamo 
ben esiliati qua!'''' and with a word of drollery, the party recov- 
ered its gayer tone, and the humor and wit flowed on bril- 
liantly as before. 

The house had long been still, and the last carriage belong- 
ing to the company above stairs had rolled from the door, when 
Grisi suddenly remembered a bird that she had lately bought, 
of which she proceeded to give us a description that probably 
penetrated to every corner of the silent mansion. It was a 
mocking bird, that had been kept two years in the opera 
house, and between rehearsal and performance had learned 
parts of everything it had overheard. It was the property of 
the woman who took care of the wardrobes. Grisi had 
accidentally seen it, and immediately purchased it for two 
guineas. How much of embellishment there was in her imit- 
ations of her treasure I do not know ; but certainly the whole 
power of her wondrous voice, passion, and knowledge of music, 
seemed drunk up at once in the wild, various, diffiicult, and 
rapid mixture of the capricious melody she undertook. First 
came, without the passage which it usually terminates, the long 
throat-down, gurgling, water-toned trill, in which Eubini 
(but for the bird and its mistress, it seemed to me,) would have 
been inimitable : then, right upon it, as if it w T ere the begin- 
ning of a bar, and in the most unbreathing continuity, fol- 
lowed a brilliant passage from the Barber of Seville run into 
the passionate prayer of Anna Bolena in her madness, and fol- 
lowed by the air of " Suoni la Uomba intrejrida," the tremen- 



228 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



dous duet in the Puritani, between Tamburini and Lablache 
Up to the sky and down to the earth again — away with a 
note of the wildest gladness, and back upon a note of the most 
touching melancholy — if the bird but half equals the imita- 
tion of his mistress, he were worth the jewel in a sultan's 
turban. 

" Giulia !" Giulietta !" " Giuliettina !" cried out one and 
another as she ceased, expressing in their Italian diminutives, 
the love and delight she had inspired by her incomparable ex- 
ecution. 

The stillness of the house in the occasional pauses of conver- 
sation reminded the gay party, at last, that it was wearing 
late. The door was unlocked, and the half-dozen sleepy foot- 
men hanging about the hall were dispatched for the cloaks and 
carriages ; the drowsy porter was roused from his deep leathern 
dormeuse, and opened the door — and broad upon the streetlay the 
cold gray light of a summer's morning. I declined an offer 
to be set down by a friend's cab, and strolled off to Hyde Park 
to surprise myself with a sunrise ; balancing the silent rebuke 
in the fresh and healthy countenances of early laborers going 
to their toil, against the effervescence of a champagne hour 
which, since such come so rarely, may come, for me, with what 
untimeliness they please. 



THE STEEETS OF LONDON. 



It has been said that " few men know how to take a walk." 
In London it requires some experience to know where to take 
a walk. The taste of the perambulator, the hour of the day, 
and the season of the year, would each affect materially the 
decision of the question. 

If you are up early — I mean early for London — say ten 
o'clock — we would start from your hotel in Bond street, and 
hastening through Eegent street and the Quadrant (deserts at 
that hour) strike into the zigzag alleys, cutting traversely from 
Coventry street to Covent Garden. The horses on the cab 
stand in the Haymarket " are at this hour asleep." The late 
supper-eaters at Dubourg's and the Cafe cle V Europe were 
the last infliction upon their galled wisthers, and while dissip- 
ation slumbers they may find an hour to hang their heads up- 
on the bit, and forget gall and spavin in the sunshiny drowse 



230 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

of morning. The cabman, too, nods on his perch outside, 
careless of the custom of "them as pays only their fare," and 
quite sure not to get " a gemman to drive" at that unseason- 
able hour. The " waterman" (called a " w^er-man," as he 
will tell you, " because he gives hay to the 'orses") leans 
against the gas-lamp at the corner, looking with a vacant in- 
difference of habit at the splendid coach with its four blood- 
bays just starting from the Brighton coach-office in the 
Crescent. The side-walk of Coventry street, usually radiant 
with the flaunting dresses of the frail and vicious, is now sober 
with the dull habiliments of the early-stirring and the poor. 
The town, (for this is town, not city) beats its more honest 
pulse. Industry alone is abroad. 

Eupert street on the left is the haunt of shabby-genteel 
poverty. To its low-doored chop-houses steal the more needy 
loungers of Regent street, and in confined and greasy, but 
separate and exclusive boxes, they eat their mutton-chop and 
potato unseen of their gayer acquaintances. Here comes the 
half-pay officer, w r hose half-pay is halved or quartered with 
wife and children, to drink his solitary half-pint of sherry, and, 
over a niggardly portion of soup and vegetables, recall, as he 
may in imagination, the gay dinners at mess, and the compan 
ions now grown cold — in death or worldliness ! Here comes 
the sharper out of luck, the debtor newly out of prison. And 
here comes many a " gay fellow about town," who will dine 
to-morrow, or may have dined yesterday, at a table of unspar 
ing luxury, but who now turns up Rupert street at seven, 
cursing the mischance that draws upon his own slender pocket 
for the dinner of today. Here are found the watchful host 
and the suspicious waiter — the closely-measured wine, and the 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 231 



more closety-measured attention — the silent and shrinking 
company, the close-drawn curtain, the suppressed call for the 
bill, the lingering at the table of those who value the retreat 
and the shelter to recover from the embarrassing recognition 
and the objectless saunter through the streets. The ruin, the 
distress, the despair, that wait so closely upon the heels of 
fashion, pass here with their victims. It is the last step within 
the bounds of respectability. They still live "at the West end," 
while they dine in Eupert street. They may still linger in the 
Park, or stroll in Bond street, till their better-fledged friends 
flit to dinner at the clubs, and, within a stone's throw of the 
luxurious tables and the gay mirth they so bitterly remember, 
sit down to an ill-dressed meal, and satisfy the calls of hunger 
in silence. Ah, the outskirts of the bright places in life are 
darker for the light that shines so near them ! How much 
sweeter is the coarsest meal shared with the savage in the 
wilderness, than the comparative comfort of cooked meats and 
wine in a neighborhood like this ! 

Come through this narrow lane into Leicester Square. 
You cross here the first limit of the fashionable quarter. The 
Sabloniere hotel is in this square ; but you may not give it as 
your address unless you are a foreigner. This is the home 
of that most miserable fish out of water — a Frenchman in 
London. A bad French hotel, and two or three execrable 
French restaurants, make this spot the most habitable to the 
exiled habitue of the Palais Royal. Here he gets a mocking 
imitation of what, many possible degree, is better than the 
sacre biftek, or the half-raw mutton-chop and barbarous boiled 
potato ! Here he comes forth, if the sun shine perchance for 
one hour at noon, and paces up and down on the side-walk, 



232 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

trying to get the better of his bile and his bad breakfast. 
Here waits for him at three, the shabby, but most expensive 
remise cab, hired by the day for as much as would support 
him a month in Paris. Leicester square is the place for con- 
jurors, bird-fanciers, showmen, and generally for every fo- 
reign novelty in the line of nostrums and marvels. If there 
is a dwarf in London, or a child with two heads, you will see 
one or all in that building, so radiaut with placards, and so 
thronged with beggars. 

Come on through Cranbourne alley. Old clothes, second- 
hand stays, idem shawls, capes, collars, and ladies' articles of 
ornamental ware generally ; cheap straw bonnets, old books, 
gingerbread, and stationery ! Look at this once-expensive 
and finely-worked muslin cape ! What fair shoulders did it 
adorn when these dingy flowers were new — when this fine lace 
edging bounded some heaving bosom, perhaps, like frost-work 
on the edge of a snow-drift. It has been the property of some 
minion of elegance and wealth, vicious or virtuous, and by 
what hard necessity came it here ? Ten to one, could it speak, 
its history would keep us standing at this shop window, indif- 
ferent alike to the curious glances of these passing damsels, 
and the gentle eloquence of the Jew on the other side, who 
pays us the unflattering compliment of suggesting an improve- 
ment in our toilet by the purchase of the half- worn habiliments 
he exposes. 

I like Cranbourne alley, because it reminds me of Venice. 
The half-daylight between the high and overhanging roofs, the 
just audible hum of voices and occupation from the different 
shops, the shuffling of hasty feet over the smooth flags, and 
particularly the absence of horses and wheels, make it (in all 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 233 

but the damp air and the softer speech) a fair resemblance to 
those close passages in the rear of the canals between St. 
Mark's and the Eialto. Then I like studying a pawnbroker's 
window, and I like ferreting in the old book-stalls that abound 
here. It is a good lesson in humility for an author to see 
what he can be bought for in Cranbourne alley. Some 
" gentle reader," wmo has paid a guinea and a half for you, 
has resold you for two-and-sixpence. For three shillings you 
may have the three volumes, " as good as new," and the shop- 
man, by his civility, pleased to be rid of it on the terms. If 
you would console yourself, however, buy Milton for one- 
and-sixpence, and credit your vanity with the eighteen-pence 
of the remainder. 

The labyrinth of alleys between this and Covent Garden are 
redolent of poverty and pothouses. In crossing St. Martin's 
lane, life appears to have become suddenly a struggle and a 
calamity. Turbulent and dirty women are everywhere visible 
through the open windows ; the half-naked children at the 
doors look already care-worn and incapable of a smile; and 
the men throng the gin-shops, bloated, surly, and repulsive. 
Hurry through this leprous spot in the vast body of London, 
and let us emerge in the Strand. 

You would think London Strand the main artery of the 
world. I suppose there is no thoroughfare on the face of the 
earth where the stream of human life runs with a tide so over- 
whelming. In any other street in the world you catch the 
eye of the passerby. In the Strand, no man sees another ex- 
cept as a solid body, whose contact is to be avoided. You 
are safe nowhere on the pavement without all the vigilance of 
your senses. Omnibuses and cabs, drays, carriages, wheel- 



234 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 






barrows, and porters, beset the street. Newspaper-hawkers, 
pickpockets, shop-boys, coal-heavers, and a perpetual and 
selfish crowd dispute the sidewalk. If you venture to look 
at a print in a shop-window, you arrest the tide of passengers, 
who immediately walk over you ; and, if you stop to speak 
with a friend, who by chance has run his nose against yours 
rather than another man's, you impede the way, and are made 
to understand it by the force of jostling. If you would get 
into an omnibus you are quarrelled, for by half-a-dozen who 
catch your eye at once ; and after using all your physical 
strength and most of your discrimination, you are most proba- 
bly embarked in the wrong one, and are going at ten miles the 
hour to Blackwell, when you are bound to Islington. A 
Londoner passes his life in learning the most adroit mode of 
threading a crowd, and escaping compulsory journeys in cabs 
and omnibuses ; and dine with any man in that metropolis 
from twenty-five to sixty years of age, and he will entertain 
you, from the soup to the Curacoa, with his hair-breadth 
escapes and difficulties with cads and coach-drivers. 



LONDON. 



A Londoner, if met abroad, answers very vaguely any 
questions you may be rash enough to put to him about " the 
city." Talk to him of " town," and he would rather miss 
seeing St. Peter's, than appear ignorant of any person, thing, 
custom, or fashion, concerning whom or which you might 
have a curiosity. It is understood all over the world that the 
" city " of London is that crowded, smoky, jostling, omnibus 
and cab-haunted portion of the metropolis of England which 
lies east of Temple Bar. A kind of debatable country, con- 
sisting of the Strand, Covent Garden, and Tottenham Court 
road, then intervenes, and west of these lies what is called 
" the town." A transit from one to the other by an inhabit- 
ant of either, is a matter of some forethought and provision. 



236 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



1 



If milord, in Carlton Terrace, for example, finds it necessary 
to visit his banker in Lombard street, he orders — not the 
blood bay and the cane tilbury which he is wont to drive in 
the morning — but the crop roadster in the cab, with the night 
harness, and Poppet his tiger in plain hat and gaiters. If the 
banker in Lombard street, on the contrary, emerges from the 
twilight of his counting-house to make a morning call on the 
wife of some foreign correspondent, lodging at the Clarendon, 
he steps into a Piccadilly omnibus, not in the salt-and-pepper 
creations of his Cheapside tailor, but (for he has an account 
with Stultz also for the west-end business) in a claret-colored 
frock of the last fashion at Crockford's, a fresh hat from New 
Bond street, and (if he is young) a pair of cherished boots 
from the Rue St. Honore. He sits very clear of his neighbors 
on the way, and, getting out at the crossing at Farrance's, the 
pastry cook, steps in and indulges in a soup, and then walks 
slowly past the clubs to his rendezvous, at a pace that would 
ruin his credit irrevocably if practised a mile to the eastward. 
The difference between the two migrations is, simply, that 
though the nobleman affects the plainness of the city, he would 
not for the world be taken for a citizen ; while the junior part- 
ner of the house of Firkins and Co. would feel unpleasantly 
surprised if he were not supposed to be a member of the 
Clubs, lounging to a late breakfast. 

There is a " town " manner, too, and a " city " manner, 
practised with great nicety by all who frequent both extremi- 
ties of London. Nothing could be in more violent contrast, 
for example, than the manner of your banker when you dine 
with him at his country house, and the same person when you 
meet him on the narrow sidewalk in Throgmorton street. If 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 237 



you had seen him first in his suburban retreat, you would 
wonder how the deuce such a cordial, joyous, spare-nothing 
sort of good fellow could ever reduce himself to the cautious 
proportions of Change alley. If you met him first in Change 
alley, on the contrary, you would wonder, with quite as much 
embarrassment, how such a cold, two-fingered, pucker-browed 
slave of Mammon could ever, by any license of interpretation, 
be called a gentleman. And when you have seen him in 
both places, and know him well, if he is a favorable specimen 
of his class, you will be astonished still more to see how com- 
pletely he will sustain both characters — giving you the cold 
shoulder, in a way that half insults you, at twelve in the 
morning, and putting his home, horses, cellar, and servants, 
completely at your disposal at four in the afternoon. Two 
souls inhabit the banker's body, and each is apparently sole 
tenant in turn. As the Hampstead early coach turns the cor- 
ner by St. Giles's, on its way to the bank, the spirit of gain 
enters into the bosom of the junior Firkins, ejecting, till the 
coach passes the same spot at three in the afternoon, the more 
gentlemanly inhabitants. Between those hours, look to Fir- 
kins for no larger sentiment than may be written upon the 
blank lines of a note of hand, and expect no courtesy that 
would occupy the head or hands of the junior partner longer 
than one second by St. Paul's. With the broad beam of 
sunshine that inundates the returning omnibus emerging from 
Holborn into Tottenham court road, the angel of port wine 
and green fields passes his finger across Firkins's brow, and 
'presto ! the man is changed. The sight of a long and narrow 
strip of paper, sticking from his neighbor's pocket, depreciates 
that person in his estimation, he criticises the livery and riding 



238 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

of the groom trotting past, says some very true things of the 
architecture of the new cottage on the roadside, and is landed 
at the end of his own shrubbery, as pleasant and joyous- 
ooking a fellow as you would meet on that side of London. 
You have ridden out to dine with him, and as he meets you 
on the lawn, there is still an hour to dinner, and a blood 
horse spatters round from the stables, which you are welcome 
to drive to the devil if you like, accompanied either by Mrs. 
Firkins or himself; or, if you like it better, there are Mrs. 
Firkins's two ponies, and the chaise holds two and the tiger. 
Ten to one Mrs. Firkins is a pretty woman, and has her 
whims, and when you are fairly on the road, she proposes to 
leave the soup and champaign at home to equalize their ex- 
tremes of temperature, drive to Whitehall Stairs, take boat 
and dine, extempore, at Richmond. And Firkins, to whom it 
will be at least twenty pounds out of pocket, claps his hands 
and says — " By Jove, it's a bright thought ! touch up the near 
pony, Mrs. Firkins." And away you go, Firkins amusing 
himself the whole way from Hampstead to Richmond, imag- 
ining the consternation of his cook and butler when nobody 
comes to dine. 

There is an aristocracy in the city, of course, and Firkins 
will do business with twenty persons in a day whom he could 
never introduce to Mrs. Firkins. The situation of that lady 
with respect to her society is (she will tell you in confidence) 
rather embarrassing. There are very many worthy persons, 
she will say, who represent large sums of money or great in- 
terests in trade, whom it is necessary to ask to the Lodge, but 
who are far from being ornamental to her new blue satin bou- 
doir. She has often proposed to Firkins to have them labelled 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 23 g 



in tens and thousands, according to their fortunes ; that if, by 
any unpleasant accident, Lord Augustus should meet them 
there, he might respect them like = in algebra, for what they 
stand for. But as it is, she is really never safe in calculating 
on a societe choisie to dine or sup. When Hook or Smith is 
just beginning to melt out, or Lady Priscilla is in the middle 
of a charade, in walks Mr. Snooks, of the foreign house of 
Snooks, Son, and Co. — " unexpectedly arrived from Lisbon, 
and run down without ceremony to call on his respectable 
correspondent." 

" Isn't it tiresome ?" 

n Very, my dear madam ! But then you have the happi- 
ness of knowing that you promote very essentially your hus- 
band's interests, and when he has made a plum " 

" Yes, very true ; and then, to be sure, Firkins has had to 
build papa a villa, and buy my brother Wilfred a commission, 
and settle an annuity on my aunt, and fit out my youngest 
brother Bob to India ; and when I think of what he does for 
my family, why I don't mind making now and then a sacrifice 
— but, after all, it's a great evil not to be able to cultivate 
one's own class of society." 

And so murmurs Mrs. Firkins, who is the prettiest and 
sweetest creature in the world, and really loves the husband 
she married for his fortune ; but as the prosperity of Haman 
was nothing while Mordecai sat at the gate, it is nothing to 
Mrs. Firkins that her father lives in luxury, that her brothers 
are portioned off, and that she herself can have blue boudoirs 
and pony-chaises ad libitum, while Snooks, Son and Co. may 
at any moment break in npon the charade of Lady Pris- 
cilla! 



240 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



There is a class of business people in London, mostly bach- 
elors, who have wisely declared themselves independent of the 
West End, and live in a style of their own in the dark courts 
and alleys about the Exchange, but with a luxury not exceed- 
ed even in the silken recesses of May Fair. You will some- 
times meet at the opera a young man of decided style, unex- 
ceptionable in his toilet, and quiet and gentlemanlike in his 
address, who contents himself with the side alley of the pit, 
and looks at the bright circles of beauty and fashion about 
him with an indifference it is difficult to explain. Make his 
acquaintance by chance, and he takes you home to supper in 
a plain chariot on the best springs Long Acre can turn out ; 
and while you are speculating where, in the name of the Prince 
of Darkness, these narrow streets will bring you to, you are 
introduced through a small door into saloons, perfect in taste 
and luxury, where, ten to one, you sup with the prima donna, 
or la -premiere danseuse, but certainly with the most polished 
persons of your own sex, not one of whom, though you may 
have passed a life in London, you ever met in society before. 
There are, I doubt not, in that vast metropolis, hundreds of 
small circles of society, composed thus of persons refined by 
travel and luxury, w T hose very existence in unsuspected by the 
fine gentleman at the West End, but who, in the science of 
living agreeably, are almost as well entitled to rank among the 
cognoscenti as Lord Sefton or the " Member for Einsbury." 



LONDON. 



You return from your ramble in " the city " by two o'clock. 

A bright day "toward," and the season in its palmy time. 

The old veterans are just creeping out upon the portico of the 

United Service Club, having crammed " The Times" over 

their late breakfast, and thus prepared their politics against 

surprise for the day ; the broad steps of the Athenaeum are 

as yet unthronged by the shuffling feet of the literati, whose 

morning is longer and more secluded than that of idler men, 

but^vho will be seen in swarms, at four, entering that superb 

edifice in company with the employes and politicians who 

affect their society. Not a cab stands yet at the " Travellers," 

whose members, noble or fashionable, are probably at this 

hour in their dressing-gowns of brocade or shawl of the orient, 

smoking a hookah over Balzac's last romance, or pursuing at 
11 



•42 FAMOUS PERSONS AND FLACES. 



this (to them) desert time of da}' some adventure which 
waited upon their love and leisure. It is early yet for the 
Park ; but the equipages you will see by-and-by " in the 
Hug " are standing- now at Howell and James's, and while the 
high-bred horses are fretting at the door, and the liveried foot- 
men lean on their gold-headed sticks on the pavement, the 
fair creature whose slightest nod these trained minions and 
their fine-limbed animals live to obey, sits upon a three-legged 
stool within, and in the voice which is a spell upon all hearts, 
and with eyes to which rank and genius turn like Persians 
to the sun. discusses with a pert clerk the quality of stock- 
ings ! 

Look at these equipages and their appointments ! Mark 
the exquisite balance of that claret-bodied chariot upon its 
springs — the fine sway of its sumptuous hammercloth in which 
the un-smiling coachman sits buried to the middle — the exact 
fit of the saddles, setting into the curve of the horse's backs 
so as not to break, to the most careless eye, the fine lines 
which exhibit action and grace ! See how they stand toge- 
ther — alert, fiery, yet obedient to the weight of a silken 
thread ; and as the coachman sees you studying his turn-out, 
observe the imperceptible feel of the reins and the just-visible 
motion of his lips, conveying to the quick ears of his horses 
the premonitory, and, to us, inaudible sound, to which, with- 
out drawing a hair's breadth upon the traces, they paw fcheir 
fine hoofs, and expand their nostrils impatiently ! Come nearer, 
and find a speck or a raised hair, if you can, on these glossy 
coats ! Observe the nice fitness of the dead-black harness, the 
modest crest upon the panel, the delicate picking out of white 
in the wheels, and, if you will venture upon a freedom in 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 243 



manners, look in through the window of rose-teinted glass, 
and see the splendid cushions and the costly and splendid 
adaptation of the interior. The twin-mated footmen fly to 
the carriage-door, and the pomatumed clerk who has enjoyed 
a tete-a-tete for which a Prince Royal might sigh, and an Am- 
bassador might negociate in vain, hands in his parcel. The 
small foot presses on the carpeted step, the airy vehicle yields 
lightly and recovers from the slight weight of the descending 
form, the coachman inclines his ear for the half-suppressed or- 
der from the footman, and off whirls the admirable structure, 
compact, true, steady, but magically free and fast — as if 
horses, footmen, and chariot were but the parts of some 
complicated centaur — some swift-moving monster upon legs 
and wheels ! 

"Walk on a little farther to the Quadrant. Here commences 
the most thronged promenade in London. These crescent 
colonnades are the haunt of foreigners on the lookout for 
amusement, and of strangers in the metropolis generally. You 
will seldom find a town-bred man there, for he prefers haunt- 
ing his clubs; or, if he is not a member of them, he avoids 
lounging much in the Quadrant, lest he should appear to have no 
other resort, You will observe a town dandy getting fidgety 
after his second turn in the Quadrant, while you will meet the 
same Frenchman there from noon till dusk, bounding his 
walk by those columns as if they were the bars of a cage. 
The western side toward Piccadilly is the thoroughfare of the 
honest passer-by ; but under the long portico opposite, you 
will meet vice in every degree, and perhaps more beauty than 
on an} 7 other pave in the world. It is given up to the vicious 
and their followers by general consent. To frequent it, or to 



244 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



be seen loitering there at all, is to make but one impression on 
the mind of those who may observe you. 

The two sides of Regent street continue to partake of this 
distinction to the end. Go up on the left, and you meet the 
sober citizen perambulating with his wife, the lady followed 
by her footman, the grave and the respectable of all classes. 
Go up on the other, and in color and mien it is the difference 
between a grass-walk and a bed of tulips. What proof is here 
that beauty is dangerous to its possessor ! It is said com- 
monly of Regent street, that it shows more beauty in an hour 
than could be found in all the capitals of the continent. It is 
the beauty, however, of brilliant health — of complexion and 
freshness, more than of sentiment or classic correctness. The 
English features, at least in the middle and lower ranks, are 
seldom good, though the round cheek, the sparkling lip, the 
soft blue eyes and hair of dark auburn, common as health and 
youth, produce the effect of high and almost universal beauty 
on the e}^e of the stranger. The rarest thing in these classes 
is a finely-turned limb, and to the clumsiness of their feet and 
ankles must be attributed the want of grace usually remarked 
in their movements. 

Regent street has appeared to me the greatest and most 
oppressive solitude in the world. In a crowd of business 
men, or in the thronged and mixed gardens of the continent, 
the pre-occupation of others is less attractive, or at least, more 
within our reach, if we would share in it. Here, it is wealth 
beyond competition, exclusiveness and indifference perfectly 
unapproachable. In the cold and stern mien of the practised 
Londoner, it is difficult for a stranger not to read distrust, and 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 2 45 



very difficult for a depressed mind not to feel a marked repul- 
sion. There is no solitude after all like the solitude of cities. 

" dear, dear London" (says the companion of Asmodeus 
on his return from France,) " dear even in October ! Regent 
street, I salute you ! Bond street, my good fellow, how are 
you ? And you, oh, beloved Oxford street, whom the opium- 
eater called ' stonyhearted,' and whom I, eating no opium, and 
speaking as I find, shall ever consider the most kindly and ma- 
ternal of all streets — the street of the middle classes — busy 
without uproar, wealthy without ostentation. Ah, the pretty 
ankles that trip along thy pavement ! Ah ! the odd country- 
cousin bonnets that peer into thy windows, which are lined with 
cheap yellow shawls, price one pound four shillings marked in 
the corner ! Ah ! the brisk young lawyers flocking from their 
quarters at the back of Iiolborn ! Ah ! the quiet old ladies, 
living in Duchess street, and visiting thee with their eldest 
daughters in the hope of a bargain ! Ah, the bumpkins from 
Norfolk just disgorged by the Bull and Mouth — the soldiers 
— the milliners — the Frenchmen — the swindlers — the porters 
with four-post beds on their backs, who add the excitement 
of danger to that of amusement ! The various shifting, motley 
group that belong to Oxford street, and Oxford street alone ! 
What thoroughfares equal thee in the variety of human speci- 
mens ! in the choice of objects for remark, satire, admiration ! 
Besides, the other streets seem chalked out for a sect — narrow- 
minded and devoted to a coterie. Thou alone art catholic — 
all-receiving. Regent street belongs to foreigners, segars, and 
ladies in red silk, whose characters are above scandal. Bond 
street belongs to dandies and picture-dealers. St. James's 
street to club loungers and young men in the guards, with 



246 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



mustaches properly blackened by the cire of Mr. Delcroix ; 
but thou, Oxford Street, what class can especially claim thee 
as its own ? Thou mockest at oligarchies ; thou knowest 
nothing of select orders ! Thou art liberal as air — a chartered 
libertine ; accepting the homage of all, and retaining the stamp 
of none. And to call thee ' stony-hearted !' — certainly thou 
art so to beggars — to people who have not the wherewithal. 
But thou wouldst not be so respectable if thou wert not capa- 
ble of a certain reserve to paupers. Thou art civil enough, in 
all conscience, to those who have a shilling in their pocket 
. — those who have not, why do they live at all ?" 






LONDON. 



It is near four o'clock, and in Bond street you might almost 
walk on the heads of livery-servants — at every stride stepping 
over the heads of two ladies and a dandy exclusive. Tho- 
roughfare it is none, for the carriages are creeping on, inch 
by inch, the blood-horses " marking time," the coachman 
watchful for his panels and whippletrees, and the lady within 
her silken chariot, lounging back, with her eyes upon the pass- 
ing line, neither impatient nor surprised at the delay, for she 
came there on purpose. Between the swaying bodies of the 
carriages, hesitating past, she receives the smiles and recog- 
nitions of all her male acquaintances ; while occasionally a fe- 
male ally (for allies against the rest of the sex are as necessary 
in society to women, as in war to monarchs) — occasionally, I 

[247] 



248 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



say, a female ally announced by the crest upon the blinker 
of an advancing horse, arrives opposite her window, and, with 
only the necessary delay in passing, they exchange, perhaps, 
inquiries for health, but, certainly, programmes, comprehensive 
though brief, for the prosecutiou of each other's loves or hates. 
Occasionally a hack cab, seduced into attempting Bond street 
by some momentary opening, finds itself closed in, forty deep, 
by chariots, britzas, landaus, and family coaches ; and amid 
the imperturbable and unanswering whips of the hammer- 
cloth, with a passenger who is losing tho coach by the delay, 
he must wait, will-he-nill-he, till some " pottering" Dowager 
has purchased the old Lord his winter flannels, or till the 
Countess of Loiter has said all she has to say to the guards- 
man whom she has met accidentally at Pluckrose the perfu- 
mer's. The three tall fellows, with gold sticks, would see 
the entire plebeian population of London thrice-sodden in vit- 
riol, before they would advance miladi'a carnage a step, or ap- 
pear to possess eyes or ears fur the infuriated cabman. 

Bond street, at this hour, is a study for such observers, as, 
having gone through an apprenticeship of criticism upon all 
the other races and grades of men and gentlemen in the world, 
are now prepared to study their species in its highest fashion- 
able phase — that of " nice persons" at the West End. The 
Oxford street " swell," and the Regent street dandy, if seen 
here, are out of place. The expressive word " quiet" (with its 
present London signification,) defines the dress, manner, bow, 
and even physiognomy, of every true denizen of St. James's 
and Bond street. The great principle among men of the 
Clubs, in all these particulars, is to subdue — to deprive their 
coats, hats, and manners, of everything sufficiently marked to 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 24g 



be caricatured by the satirical or imitated by the vulgar. 
The triumph of style seems to be that the lines which define it 
shall be imperceptible to the common eye — that it shall require 
the difficult education which creates it to know its form and 
limit. Hence an almost universal error with regard to Eng- 
lish gentlemen — that they are repulsive and cold. With a thou- 
sand times the heart and real politeness of the Frenchman, 
they meet you with the simple and unaffected address which 
would probably be that of shades in Elysium, between whom 
(we may suppose) there is no longer etiquette or concealment. 
The only exceptions to this rule in London, are, first and 
alone, Count D'Orsay, whose extraordinary and original style, 
marked as it is, is inimitable by any man of less brilliant 
talents and less beauty of person, and the king's guardsmen, 
who are dandies by prescriptive right, or, as it were, profession- 
ally. All other men who are members of Brooks's and the 
Traveller's, and frequent Bond street in the flush of the after- 
noon, are what would be called in America, plain unornamen- 
tal, and, perhaps, ill-dressed individuals, who would strike you 
more by the absence than the possession of all the peculiari- 
ties which we generally suppose marks a " picked man of 
countries." In America, particularly, we are liable to error 
on this point, as, of the great number of our travellers for im- 
provement, scarce one in a thousand remains longer in London 
than to visit the Tower and the Thames tunnel. The nine 
hundred and ninety nine reside principally, and acquire all they 
get of foreign manner and style, at Paris — the very most arti- 
ficial, corrupt, and affected school for gentlemen in the polite 
world. 

Prejudice against any one country is an illiberal feeling, 
11* 



250 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



which common reflection should, and which enlightened tra 
usually does, entirely remove. There is a vulgar prejudi 
against the English in almost all countries, but more partic 
larly in ours, which blinds its entertainers to much that 
admirable, and deprives them of the good drawn from the be 
models. The troop of scurrilous critics, the class of Englis 
bagmen, and errant vulgarians of all kinds, and the industi 
ously-blown coals of old hostilities, are barriers which an edii 
cated mind may well overlook, and barriers beyond which lie 
no doubt, the best examples of true civilization and refinemen 
the world ever saw. But we are getting into an essay whei 
we should be turning down Bruton street, on our way to th< 
Park, with all the fashion of Bond street and May Fair. 

May Fair ! what a name for the core of dissipated and ex 
elusive London ! A name that briugs with it only the scent 
of crushed flowers in a green field, of a pole wreathed withl 
roses, booths crowded with dancing peasant-girls, and nature' 
in its holyday ! This — to express the costly, the courtlike, 
the so called u heartless " precinct of fashion and art, in their 
most authentic and envied perfection. Mais, les extremes sc 
touchent, and, perhaps, there is more nature in May Fair 
than in Rose Cottage or Honeysuckle Lodge. 

We stroll on through Berkeley square, by Chesterfield and 
Curzon streets to the Park gate. "What an aristocratic quiet 
reigns here ! How plain are the exteriors of these houses : — 
how unexpressive these doors, without a name, of the luxury 
and high-born pride within ! At the open window of the hall 
sit the butler and footman, reading the morning paper, while 
they wait to dispense the " not at home" to callers not disap- 
pointed. The rooks are noisy in the old trees of Chesterfield 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL 251 

house. The painted window-screens of the probably still- 
slumbering Count D'Orsay, in his bachelor's den, are closely 
drawn, and, as we pass Seymour place, a crowd of gay cabs 
and diplomatic chariots, drawn up before the dark-green door 
at the farther extremity, announce to you the residence of one 
whose morning and evening levees are alike thronged by dis- 
tinction and talent — the beautiful Lady Blessington. 

This short turn brings us to the Park, wiiich is rapidly 
filling with vehicles of every fashion and color, and with pe- 
destrians and horsemen innumerable. No hackney coach, 
street-cab, cart, or pauper, is allowed to pass the porters at 
the several gates : the road is macadamised and watered, and 
the grass within the ring is fresh and verdant. The sun here 
triumphs partially over the skirt of London smoke, which 
sways backward and forward over the chimneys of Park lane, 
and, as far as it is possible so near the dingy halo of the me- 
tropolis, the gay occupants of these varied conveyances " take 
the air." 

Let us stand by the railing a moment, and see what comes 
by. This is the field of display for the coachman, who sits 
upon his sumptuous hammercloth, and takes more pride in 
his horses than their owner, and considers them, if not like 
his own honor and blood, very like his own property. Watch 
the delicate handling of his ribands, the affected nonchalance 
of his air, and see how perfectly, how admirably, how beau- 
tifully, move his blood horses, and how steadily and well 
follows the compact carriage ! Within (it is a dark-green 
caleche, and the liveries are drab, with red edgings) sits the 
oriental form and bright spiritual face of a banker's wife, the 
daughter of a noble race, who might have been, but was not, 



252 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



sacrificed in "making into the finance," and who soars up 
into the sky of happiness, like the unconscious bird that has 
escaped the silent arrow of the savage, as if her destiny could 
not but have been thus fulfilled. Who follows ? D'Israeli, 
alone in his cab ; thoughtful, melancholy, disappointed in his 
political schemes, and undervaluing his literary success, and 
expressing, in his scholar-like and beautiful profile, as he 
passes us, both the thirst at his heart and the satiety at hia 
lips. The livery of his "tiger" is neglected, and he drives 
like a man who has to choose between running and being run 
against, and takes that which leaves him the most leisure for 
reflection. Poor D'lsraeli ! With a kind and generous heart, 
talents of the most brilliant order, an ambition which consumes 
his soul, and a father who expects everything from his son; 
lost for the want of a tact common to understandings fa- 
thoms deep below 7 his own, and likely to drive in Hyde Park 
forty years hence — if he die not of the corrosion of disappoint- 
ment — no more distinguished than now, and a thousand times 
more melancholy.* 

An open barouche follows, drawn by a pair of dark bays, 
the coachman and footman in suits of plain gray, and no crest 
on the panels. A lady, of remarkable small person, sits, with 
the fairest foot ever seen, just peeping from under a cashmere, 
on the forward cushion, and from under her peculiarly plain 
and small bonnet burn, in liquid fire, the most lambent and 
spiritual eyes that night and sleep ever hid from the world. 
She is a niece of Napoleon, married to an English nobleman ; 

* This picture of D 'Israeli as he was, notwithstanding its erroneous 
prophecy, may not be uninteresting now. 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 053 



and beside her sits her father, who refused the throne of Tus- 
can)', a noble-looking man, with an expression of calm and 
tranquil resignation in his face, unusually plain in his exterior, 
and less alive than most of the gay promenaders to the bright 
6cene passing about him. He will play in the charade at his 
daughter's soiree in the evening, however, and forget his exile 
and his misfortunes ; for he is a fond father and a true ph ; 
losopher. 



LONDON. 



If you dine with all the world at seven, you have gtill am 
hour or more for Hyde Park, and " Eotten Eow ;" this half 
mile between Oxford street and Piccadilly, to which the fashion 
of London confines itself as if the remainder of the bright green 
Park were forbidden ground, is now fuller than ever. There 
is the advantage of this condensed drive, that you are sure to 
see your friends here, earlier or later, in every day — (for 
wherever you are to go with the horses, the conclusion of the 
order to the coachman is, " home by the Park") — and then if 
there is anything new in the way of an arrival, a pretty 
foreigner, or a fresh face from the country, some dandy's 
tiger leaves his master at the gate, and brings him at his Club, 
over his coffee, all possible particulars of her name, residence, 

[254] 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 255 



condition, and whatever other circumstances fall in his way. 

By dropping in at Lady 's soiree in the evening, if you 

were interested in the face, you may inform yourself of more 
than you would have drawn in a year's acquaintance from the 
subject of your curiosity. Malapropos to my remark, here 
comes a turn-out, concerning which and its occupant I have 
made many inquiries in vain — the pale-colored chariot, with a 
pair of grays, dashing toward us from the Seymour gate. As 
it comes by you will see, sitting quite in the corner, and in a 
very languid and elegant attitude, a slight woman of perhaps 
twenty-four, dressed in the simplest white cottage-bonnet that 
could be made, and, with her head down, looking up through 
heavy black eyelashes, as if she but waited till she had passed 
a particular object, to resume some engrossing revery. Her 
features are Italian, and her attitude, always the same indolent 
one, has also a redolence of that land of repose ; but there has 
been an English taste, and no ordinary one, in the arrange- 
ment of that equipage and its dependants; and by the expres- 
sion, never mistaken in London, of the well-appointed menials, 
you may be certain that both master and mistress (if master 
there be,) exact no common deference. She is always alone, 
and not often seen in the Park ; and whenever I have enquired 
of those likely to know, I found that she had been observed, 
but could get no satisfactory information. She disappears by 
the side tow T ard the Regent's park, and when once out of the 
gate, her horses are let off at a speed that distances all pur- 
suit that would not attract observation. There is a look 01 
" Who the deuce can it be ?" in the faces of all the mounted 
dandies, wherever she passes, for it is a face which once seen 
is not easily thought of with indifference, or forgotten. 



256 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



Immense as London is, a woman of anything like extraordi- 
nary beauty would find it difficult to live there, incognito, a 
week ; and how this fair incomprehensible has contrived to 
elude the curiosity of Hyde-park admiration, for nearly two 
years, is rather a marvel. There she goes, however, and with- 
out danger of being arrested for a flying highwayman, you 
could scarcely follow. 

It is getting late, and, as we turn down toward the Clubs, 
we shall meet the last and most fashionable comers to the 
Park. Here is a horseman,* surrounded with half a dozen 
of the first young noblemen of England. He rides a light 
bay horse with dark legs, whose delicate veins are like the 
tracery of silken threads beneath the gloss of his limbs, and 
whose small, animated head seems to express the very essence 
of speed and fire. He is the most beautiful Park horse in 
England ; and behind follows a high-bred milk-white pony, 
ridden by a small, faultlessly-dressed groom, who sits the spi- 
rited and fretting creature as if he anticipated every movement 
before the fine hoof rose from the ground. He rides admira- 
bly, but his master is more of a study. A luxuriance of black 
curls escapes from the broad rim of a peculiar hat, and forms 
a relief to the small and sculpture-like profile of a face as per- 
fect, by every rule of beauty, as the Greek Antinous. It 
would be too feminine but for the muscular neck and broad 
chest from which the head rises, and the indications of great 
personal strength in the Herculean shoulders. His loose 
coat would disguise the proportions of a less admirable 
figure; but, an restc, his dress is without fold or wrinkle and 

* Count D'Orsay. 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. o-v 



no figurante of the ballet ever showed liner or more skilfully- 
developed limbs. He is one of the most daring in this country 
of bold riders; but modifies the stiff English school of eques- 
trianism, with the ease and grace of that of his own country. 
His manner, though he is rather Anglomane, is in striking 
contrast to the grave and quiet air of liis companions; and 
between his recognitions, right and left, to the passing prome- 
naders, he laughs and amuses himself with the joyous and 
thoughtless gayety of a child. Acknowledged by all his ac- 
quaintances to possess splendid talents, this " observed of all 
observers" is a singular instance of a modern Sybarite — con- 
tent to sacrifice time, opportunity, and the highest advantages 
of mind and body, to the pleasure of the moment. He seems 
exempt from all the usual penalties of such a career. Nothing 
seems to do its usual work on him — care, nor exhaustion, nor 
recklessness, nor the disapprobation of the heavy-handed 
opinion of the world. Always gay, always brilliant, ready- 
to embark at any moment, or at any hazard, in anything that 
will amuse an hour, one wonders how and where such an un- 
wonted meteor will disappear. 

But here comes a carriage without hammercloth or liveries 
— one of those sh abb}- -genteel conveyances, hired by the week, 
containing three or four persons in the highest spirits, all talk- 
ing and gesticulating at once. As the carriage passes the 
" beau-knot," (as , and his inseparable group are some- 
times called) one or two of the dandies spur up, and resting 
their hands on the windows, offer the compliments of the day 
to the old lady within, with the most earnest looks of admir- 
ation. The gentlemen in her company become silent, and an- 
swer to the slight bows of the cavaliers with foreign monosyl- 



o 5 8 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

lables, and presently the coachman whips up once more, the 
horsemen drop off, and the excessive gayety of the party re- 
sumes its tone. You must have been struck, as the carriage 
passed, with the brilliant whiteness and regularity of the 
lady's teeth, and still more with the remarkable play of her 
lips, which move as if the blood in them were imprisoned 
lightning. (The figure is strong, but nothing else conveys to 
my own mind what I am trying to describe.) Energy, grace, 
fire, rapidity, and a capability of utter abandonment to passion 
and expression, live visibly on those lips. Her eyes are mag- 
nificent. Her nose is regular, with nostrils rimmed round with 
an expansive nerve, that gives them constantly the kind of 
animation visible in the head of a fiery Arab. Her complexion 
is one of those which, dark and wanting in brilliance by day, 
light up at night with an alabaster fairness ; and when the 
glossy black hair, which is now put away so plainly under her : 
simple bonnet, falls over her shoulders in heavy masses, the 
contrast is radiant. The gentlemen in that carriage are Ru- | 
bini, Lablache, and a gentleman who passes for the lady's un- 
cle ; and the lady is Julia Grisi. 

The smoke over the heart of the city begins to thicken into 
darkness, the gas lamps are shooting up, bright and star-like, 
along the Kensington road, and the last promenaders disap- 
pear. And now the world of London, the rich and gay por- 
tions of it at least, enjoy that which compensates them for the 
absence of the bright nights and skies of Italy — -a climate 
within doors, of comfort and luxury, unknown under brighter 
heavens. 



ISLE OF WIGHT— RYDE. 



" Instead of parboiling you with a soiree or a dinner," said 
a sensible and kind friend, who called on us at Ryde, " I shall 
make a pic-nic to Netley." And on a bright, breezy morning 
of June, a merry party of some twenty of the inhabitants of 
the green Isle of Wight shot away from the long pier, in one 
of the swift boats of those waters, with a fair wind for South- 
ampton. 

Ryde is the most American-looking town I have seen 
abroad ; a cluster of white houses and summery villas on the 
side of a hill, leaning up from the sea. Geneva, on the Sene- 
ca lake, resembles it. It is a place of baths, boarding houses, 
and people of damaged constitutions, with very select society, 
and quiet and rather primitive habits. The climate is deli- 

ciously soft, and the sun seems always to shine there. 

[259] 



260 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



As we got out into the open channel, I was assisting the 
skipper to tighten his bowline, when a beautiful ship, in the 
distance, putting about on a fresh tack, caught the sun full on 
her snowy sails, and seemed to start like an apparition from 
the sea. 

11 She's a liner, sir !" said the bronzed boatman, suspending* 
his haul to give her a look of involuntary admiration. 

" An American packet, you mean?" 

" They're the prettiest ships afloat, sir," he continued, " and 
the smartest handled. They're out to New York, and back 
again, before you can look round, a'most. Ah, I see her flag 
now — stars and stripes. Can you see it, sir ?" 

" Are the captains Englishmen, principally ?" I asked. 

" No, sir ! all ' calculators,' sharp as a needle !" 

" Thank you," said I; " I am a calculator too !" 

The conversation ceased, and I thought from the boatman's 
look, that he had more respect than love for us. The cloud 
of snowy sail traversed the breadth of the channel with the 
speed of a bird, wheeled again upon her opposite tack, and 
soon disappeared from view, taking with her the dove of my 
imagination to return with an olive-branch from home. It 
must be a cold American heart whose strings are not swept 
by that bright flag in a foreign land, like a harp with the im- 
passioned prelude of the master. 

Cowes was soon upon our lee, with her fairy fleet of yachts 
lying at anchor — Lord Yarborough's frigate-looking craft 
asleep amid its dependent brood, with all its fine tracery of 
rigging drawn on a cloudless sky, the picture of what it is, 
and what all vessels seem to me, a thing for pleasure only. 
Darting about like a swallow on the wing, a small, gayly- 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL 2Ql 



painted sloop-yacht, as graceful and slender as the first bow 
of the new moon, played off the roadstead for the sole pleas- 
ure of motion, careless whither ; and meantime the low-fringed 
shores of the Southampton side grew more and more distinct, 
and before we had well settled upon our cushions, the old 
tower of the Abbey lay sharp over the bow. 

"We enjoyed the first ramble through the ruins the better, 
that to see them was a secondary object. The first was to 
select a grassy spot for our table. Threading the old unroofed 
vaults with this errand, the pause of involuntary homage ex- 
acted by a sudden burst upon an arch or a fretted window, 
was natural and true ; and for those who are disturbed by the 
formal and trite enthusiasm of companions who admire by a 
prompter, this stalking-horse of another pursuit was not an 
indifferent advantage. 

The great roof over the principal nave of the Abbey has 
fallen in, and lies in rugged and picturesque masses within 
the Gothic shell — windows, arches, secret staircases, and 
gray walls, all breaking up the blue sky around, but leaving 
above, for a smooth and eternal roof, an oblong and ivy- 
fringed segment of the blue plane of heaven. It seems to 
rest on those crumbling corners as you stand within. 

We selected a rising bank under the shoulder of a rock, 
grown over with moss and ivy, and following the suggestion 
of a pretty lover of the picturesque, the shawls and cloaks, 
with their bright colors, were thrown over the nearest frag- 
ments of the roof, and every body unbonneted and assisted in 
the arrangements. An old woman who sold apples outside 
the walls was employed to built a fire for our teakettle in a 
niche where, doubtless, in its holier days, had stood the effigy 



262 FAMOUS PERSONS AND TLACES. 



of a saint ; and at the pedestals of a cluster of slender columns 
our attendants displayed upon a table a show of pasties and 
bright wines, that, if there be monkish spirits who walk at 
Netley, we have added a poignant regret to their purgatories, 
that their airy stomachs can be no more vino ciboque gra~ 
vati. 

"We were doing justice to a pretty shoulder of lamb, with 
mint sauce, when a slender youth, who had been wandering 
around with a portfolio, took up an artist's position in the 
further corner of the ruins, and began to sketch the scene. I 
mentally felicitated him on the accident that had brought him 
to Netley at that particular moment, for a prettier picture than 
that before him an artist could scarce have thrown together. 
The inequalities of the floor of the Abbey provided a mossy 
table for every two or three of the gayly-dressed ladies, and 
there they reclined in small and graceful groups, their white 
dresses relieved on the luxuriant grass, and between them, 
half-buried in moss, the sparkling glasses full of bright wines, 
and an air of ease and grace over all, which could belong only 
to the two extremes of Arcadian simplicity, or its high bred 
imitation. We amused ourselves with the idea of appearing, 
some six months after, in the middle ground of a landscape, 
in a picturesque annual ; and I am afraid that I detected, on 
the first suggestion of the idea, a little unconscious attitudin- 
izing in some of the younger members of the party. It was 
proposed that the artist should be invited to take wine with 
us ; but as a rosy-cheeked page donned his gold hat to carry 
our compliments, the busy draughtsman was joined by one 
or two ladies not quite so attractive-looking as himself, but 
evidently of his own party, and our messenger was re- 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 



263 



palled. Sequitur — they who would find adventure should 
travel alone. 

The monastic ruins of England derive a very peculiar and 
touching beauty from the bright veil of ivy which almost bu- 
ries them from the sun. This constant and affectionate 
mourner draws from the moisture of the climate a vividness 
and luxuriance which is found in no other land. Hence tho 
remarkable loveliness of Netley — a quality which impresses the 
visiters to this spot, far more than the melancholy usually in- 
spired by decay. 

Our gayety shocked some of the sentimental people ram- 
bling about the ruins, for it is difficult for those who have 
not dined to sympathize with the mirth of those who have. 
How often we mistake for sadness the depression of an empty 
stomach ! How differently authors and travellers would 
write, if they commenced the day, instead of ending it, with 
meats and wine ! I was led to these reflections by coming 
suddenly upon a young lady and her companion (possibly her 
lover,) in climbing a ruined staircase sheathed within the wall 
of the Abbey. They were standing at one of the windows, 
quite unconscious of my neighborhood, and looking down up- 
on the gay party of ladies below, who were still amid the 
debris of the feast arranging their bonnets for a walk. 

" What a want of soul," said the lady, "to be eating and 
drinking in such a place !" 

u Some people have no souls," responded the gentleman. 

After this verdict, I thought the best thing I could do was 
to take care of my body, and I very carefully backed down 
the old staircase, which is probably more hazardous now than 



264 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

in the days when it was used to admit damsels and haunches 
of venison to the reverend fathers. 

I reached the bottom in safety, and informed my friends 
that they had no souls, but they manifested the usual uncon- 
cern on the subject, and strolled away through the echoing 
arches, in search of new points of view and fresh wild-flowers. 
' ; Commend me at least." I thought, as I followed on, i: to 
those whose pulses can be quickened even by a cold pie 
and a glass of champagne. Sadness and envy are sown thickly 
enough by the wayside." 

We were embarked once more by the middle of the after- 
noon, and with a head wind, but smooth water and cool tem- 
perature, beat back to Ryde. If the young lady and her lover 
have forgiven or forgotten us, and the ghosts of Netley, 
frocked or petticoated, have taken no umbrage, I have not 
done amiss in marking the clay with a stone of the purest white. 
How much more sensible is a party like this in the open air, 
and at healthy hours, than the untimely and ceremonious civil- 
ities usually paid to strangers. If the world would mend by 
moralising, however, we should have had a Utopia long ago. 



COMPARISON OF THE CLIMATE OF EUROPE 
AND AMERICA. 



One of Hazlitt's nail-driving remarks is to the effect that 
he should like very well to pass the whole of his life in travel- 
ling, if he could anywhere borrow another life to spend after- 
ward at home. How far action is necessary to happiness, 
and how far repose — how far the appetite for novelty and ad- 
venture will drive, and how far the attractions of home and 
domestic comfort will recall us — in short, what are the precise 
exactions of the antagonist principles in our bosoms of curiosity 
and sloth, energy and sufferance, hope and memory — are 
questions which each one must settle for himself, and which 
none can settle but he who has passed his life in the eternal 
and fruitless search after the happiest place, climate, and 

station. 

12 T2651 



266 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



Contentment depends upon many things within our own 
control, but, with a certain education, it defends partly upon 
things beyond it. To persons delicately constituted or deli- 
cately brought up, and to all idle persons, the principal ingre- 
dient of the cup of enjoyment is climate; and Providence, 
that consults " the greatest happiness of the greatest number," 
has made the poor and the roughly-nurtured independent of 
the changes of the wind. Those who have the misfortune to 
be delicate as well as poor — those, particularly, for whom 
there is no hope but in a change of clime, but whom pitiless 
poverty compels to languish in vain after the reviving south, 
are happily few ; but they have thus much more than their 
share of human calamity. 

In throwing together my recollections of the climates with 
which I have become acquainted in other lands, I am aware 
that there is a greater difference of opinion on this subject 
than on most others. A man who has agreeable society 
about him in Montreal, but who was without friends in Flo- 
rence, would be very likely to bring the climate in for its share 
of the difference, and prefer Canada to Italy; and health and 
circumstances of all kinds affect, in no slight degree, our sus- 
ceptibility to skies and atmosphere. But it is sometimes in- 
teresting to know the impressions of others, even though they 
agree not with our own ; and I will only say of mine on this 
subject, that they are so far likely to be fair, as I have been 
blessed with the same perfect health in all countries, and have 
been happy alike in every latitude and season. 

It is almost a matter of course to decry the climate of Eng- 
land. The English writers themselves talk of suicidal months ; 
and it is the only country where part of the livery of a 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 



267 



mounted groom is his master's great-coat strapped about hib 
waist. It is certainly a damp climate, and the sun shines less 
in England than in most other countries. But to persons of 
full habit this moisture in the air is extremely agreeable ; and 
the high condition of all animals in England, from man down- 
ward, proves its healthfulness. A stranger who has been 
accustomed to a brighter sky, will, at first, find a gloom in 
the gray light so characteristic of an English atmosphere ; but 
this soon wears off, and he finds a compensation, as far as the 
eye is concerned, in the exquisite softness of the verdure, and 
the deep and enduring brightness of the foliage. The effect 
of this moisture on the skin is singularly grateful. The pores 
become accustomed to a healthy action, which is unknown in 
other countries; and the bloom by which an English com- 
plexion is known all over the world is the index of an activity 
in this important part of the system, which, when first expe- 
rienced, is almost like a new sensation. The transition to a 
dry climate, such as ours, deteriorates the condition and qual- 
ity of the skin, and produces a feeling, if I may so express it, 
like that of being glazed. It is a common remark in England 
that an officer's wife and daughters follow his regiment to Ca- 
nada at the expense of their complexions; and it is a well- 
inown fact that the bloom of female beauty is, in our coun- 
try, painfully evanescent. 

The climate of America is, in many points, very different 
from that of France and Great Britain. In the middle and 
northern states, it is a dry, invigorating, and bracing climate, 
in which a strong man may do more work than in almost any 
other, and which makes continual exercise, or occupation of 
some sort, absolutely necessary. With the exception of the 



268 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



" Indian summer," and here and there a clay scattered through 
the spring and the hot months, there is no weather tempered 
so finely, that one would think of passing the day in merely 
enjoying it, and life is passed, by those who have the misfor- 
tune to be idle, in continual and active dread of the elements. 
The cold is so acrid, and the heat so sultry, and the changes 
from one to the other are so violent, that no enjoyment can be 
depended upon out-of-doors, and no system of clothing or pro- 
tection is good for a day together. He who has full occupa- 
tion for head and hand (as by far the greatest majority of our 
countrymen have) may live as long in America as in any por- 
tion of the globe — vide the bills of mortality. He whose spir- 
its lean upon the temperature of the wind, or whose nerves 
require a genial and constant atmosphere, may find more fa- 
vorable climes; and the habits and delicate constitutions of 
scholars and people of sedentary pursuits generally, in the 
United States, prove the truth of the observation. 

The habit of regular exercise in the open air, which is found 
to be so salutary in England, is scarcely possible in America. 
It is said, and said truly, of the first, that there is no day in 
the year when a lady may not ride comfortably on horseback 
— but with us, the extremes of heat and cold, and the tem- 
pestuous character of our snows and rains, totally forbid, to 
a delicate person, anything like regularity in exercise. The 
consequence is, that the habit rarely exists, and the high and 
glowing health so common in England, and consequent, no 
doubt, upon the equable character of the climate in some mea- 
sure, is with us sufficiently rare to excite remark. " Very 
English-looking," is a common phrase, and means very 
healths-looking. Still our people last — and though I should 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 26g 

define the English climate as the one in which the human 
frame is in the highest condition, I should say of America, 
that it is the one in which you could get the most work out 
of it. 

Atmosphere, in England and America, is the first of the 
necessaries of life. In Italy, it is the first of its luxuries. We 
breathe in America, and walk abroad, without thinking of 
these common acts but as a means of arriving at happiness. 
In Italy, to breathe and to walk abroad are themselves happi- 
ness. Day after day — week after week — month after month 
— you wake with the breath of flowers coming in at your open 
window, and a sky of serene and unfathomable blue, and morn- 
ings and evenings of tranquil, assured, heavenly purity and 
beauty. Tbe few weeks of the rainy season are forgotten in 
these long halcyon months of sunshine. No one can have 
lived in Italy a year, who remembers anything but the 
sapphire sky and the kindling and ever-seen stars. You grow 
insensibly to associate the sunshine and the moonlight only 
with the fountain you have lived near, or the columns of the 
temple you have seen from your window, for on no objects in 
other lands have you seen their light so constant. 

I scarce know how to convey, in language, the effect of the 
climate of Italy on mind and body. Sitting here, indeed, in 
the latitude of thirty-nine, in the middle of April, by a warm 
fire, and with a cold wind whistling at the window, it is diffi- 
cult to recall it, even to the fancy. I do not know whether 
life is prolonged, but it is infinitely enriched and brightened, 
by the delicious atmosphere of Italy. You rise in the morn- 
ing, thanking Heaven for life and liberty to go abroad. There 
is a sort of opiate in the air, which makes idleness, that 



270 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



would be the vulture of Prometheus in America, the dove of 
promise in Italy. It is delicious to do nothing — delicious to 
stand an hour looking at a Savoyard and his monkey — deli- 
cious to sit away the long, silent noon, in the shade of a col- 
umn, or on the grass of a fountain — delicious to be with a 
friend without the interchange of an idea — to dabble in a book 
or look into the cup of a flower. You do not read, for you 
wish to enjoy the weather. You do not visit, for you hate to 
enter a door while the weather is so fine. You lie down un- 
willingly for your siesta in the hot noon, for you fear you may 
oversleep the first coolness of the long shadows of sunset. 
The fancy, meantime, is free, and seems liberated by the 
same languor that enervates the severer faculties ; and nothing 
seems fed by the air but thoughts, which minister to en- 
joyment. 

The climate of Greece is very much that of Italy. The 
Mediterranean is all beloved of the sun. Life has a value 
there, of which the rheumatic, shivering, snow breasting, blue- 
devilled idler of northern regions has no shadow, even in a 
dream. No wonder Dante mourned and languished for it. 
No wonder at the sentiment I once heard from distinguished 
lips — Fuori cV Italia tutto e esilio. 

This appears like describing a Utopia ; but it is what Italy 
seemed to me. I have expressed myself much more to my 
mind, however, in rhyme, for a prose essay is, at best, but a 
cold medium. 



STRATFORD-ON-AVON. 



" One-p'un'-five outside, sir, two pun' in." 

It was a bright, calm afternoon in September, promising 

nothing but a morrow of sunshine and autumn, when I stepped 

in at the " White Horse Cellar, 1 ' in Piccadilly, to take my 

place in the Tantivy coach for Stratford-on-Avon. Preferring 

the outside of the coach, at least by as much as the difference 

in the prices, and accustomed from long habit to pay dearest 

for that which most pleased me, I wrote myself down for the 

outside, and deposited my two pounds in the horny palm of 

the old ex coachman, retired from the box, and playing clerk 

in this dingy den of parcels and portmanteaus. Supposing 

my business concluded, I stood a minute speculating on the 

weather-beaten, cramp-handed old Jehu before me, and trying 

[271] 



272 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



o reconcile his ideas of " retirement from office " with those 
of his almost next door neighbor, the hero of Strathfield- 
saye. 

I had mounted the first stair toward daylight, when a 
touch on the shoulder with the end of a long whip — a techni- 
cal u reminder," which probably came easier to the old driver 
than the phrasing of a sentence to a " gemman " — recalled 
me to the cellar. 

<£ Fifteen shillin', sir," said he laconically, pointing with the 
same expressive exponent of his profession to the change for 
my outside place, which I had left lying on the counter. 

" You are at least as honest as the Duke," I soliloquised as 
I pocketed the six bright and substantial half-crowns. 

I was at the "White Horse Cellar" again the following 
morning at six, promising myself with great sincerity never to 
rely again on the constancy of an English sky. It rained in 
torrents. The four inside places were all taken, and with 
twelve fellow outsides, I mounted to the wet seat, and begging 
a little straw by way of cushion from the ostler, spread my 
umbrella, abandoned my knees with a single effort of mind to 
the drippings of the driver's weather-proof upper Benjamin, 
and away we sped. I was " due " at the house of a hospita- 
ble Catholic Baronet, a hundred and two miles from London, 
at the dinner hour of that day, and to wait till it had done 
raining in England is to expect the millennium. 

London in the morning — I mean the poor man's morning, 
daylight — is to me matter for the most speculative and intense 
melancholy. Hyde park in the sunshine of a bright afternoon, 
glittering with equipages, and gay with the Aladdin splen- 
dors of rank and wealth, is a scene which senus the mercurial 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. __ Q 



qualities of the blood trippingly through the veins. But Hyde 
park at daylight seen from Piccadilly through fog and rain, is 
perhaps, of all contrasts, to one who has frequented it in its 
bright hours, the most dispiriting and dreary. To remember 
that behind the barricaded and wet windows of Apsley house 
sleeps the hero of Waterloo — that under these crowded and 
fog wrapped houses lie, in their dim chambers breathing of per- 
fume and luxury, the high-born and nobly-moulded creatures 
who preserve for the aristocracy of England the palm of the 
world's beauty — to remember this, and a thousand other 
associations linked with the spot, is not at all to diminish, but 
rather to deepen, the melancholy of the picture. Why is it 
that the deserted stage of a. theatre, the echo of an empty ball 
room, the loneliness of a frequented promenade in untimely 
hours — any scene, in short, of gayety gone by but remem- 
bered — oppresses and dissatisfies the heart ! One would think 
memory should re-brighten and re-populate such places. 

The wheels hissed through the shallow pools in the Maca- 
dam road, the regular pattering of the small hoofs in the wet 
carriage-tracks maintained its quick and monotonous beat on 
the ear ; the silent driver kept his eye on the traces, and 
"reminded " now and then with but the weight of his slight 
lash a lagging wheeler or leader, and the complicated but 
compact machine of which the square foot that I occupied had 
been so nicely calculated, sped on its ten miles in the hour 
with the steadfastness of a star in its orbit, and as indepen- 
dent of clouds and rain. 

" Est ce que monsieur parle Francois .?" asked at the end of 
the first stage my right-hand neighbor, a little gentleman, of 

12* 



274 FAMOUS PERSONS AND TLACES. 

whom I had hitherto only remarked that he was holding on to 
the iron railing of the seat with great tenacity. 

Having admitted in an evil moment that I had been in 
France^ I was first distinctly made to understand that my 
neighbor was on his way to Birmingham purely for pleasure, 
and without the most distant object of business — a point on 
which he insisted so long, and recurred to so often, that he 
succeeded at last in persuading me that he was doubtless a 
candidate for the French clerkship of some exporter of but- 
tons. After listening to an amusing dissertation on the rash- 
ness of committing one's life to an English stage-coach with 
scarce room enough for the perch of a parrot, and a velocity 
so diahlement dcmgereuz, I tired of my Frenchman ; and, since 
I could not have my own thoughts in peace, opened a conver- 
sation with a straw-bonnet and shawl on my left — the property, 
I soon discovered, of a very smart lady's maid, very indignant 
at having been made to change places with Master George, 
who, with his mother and her mistress, were dry and comfort- 
able inside. She " would not have minded the outside place," 
she said, " for there were sometimes very agreeable gentlemen 
on the outside, very! — but she had been promised to go 
inside, and had dressed accordingly ; and it was very 
provoking to spoil a nice new shawl and best bonnet, just be- 
cause a great school-boy, that had nothing on that would 
damage, chose not to ride in the rain." 

" Very provoking, indeed !" I responded, letting in the rain 
npon myself unconsciously, in extending my umbrella forward 
so as to protect her on the side of the wind. 

We should have gone down in the carriage, sir," she con- 
tinued, edging a little closer to get the full advantage of my 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 275 



umbrella ; " but John the coachman has got the hinfluenzy, 
and my missis wo'n't be driven by no other coachman ; she's 
as obstinate as a mule, sir. And that isn't all I could tell, sir; 
but I scorns to hurt the character of one of my own sex." 
And the pretty abigaiL pursed up her red lips, and looked de- 
termined not to destroy her mistress's character — unless par- 
ticularly requested. 

I detest what may be called a proper road-book — even 
'would it be less absurd than it is to write one on a country so 
well conned as England. 

I shall say nothing, therefore, of Mario w, which looked the 
picture of rural loveliness though seen through fog, nor of 
Oxford, of which all I remember is that I dined there with 
my teeth chattering, and my knees saturated with rain. All 
England is lovely to the wild eye of an American unused to 
high cultivation ; and though my enthusiasm was somewhat 
damp, I arrived at the bridge over the Avon, blessing Eng- 
<and sufficiently for its beauty, and much more for the speed 
of its coaches. 

The Avon, above and below the bridge, ran brightly along 
between low banks, half sward, half meadow ; and on the 
other side lay the native town of the immortal wool-comber — 
a gay cheerful-looking village, narrowing in the centre to a 
closely-built street, across which swung, broad and fair, the 
sign of the " Eed horse." More ambitious hotels lay beyond, 
and broader streets ; but while Washington Irving is remem- 
bered (and that will be while the language lasts,) the quiet 
inn in which the great Geoffrey thought and wrote of Shak- 
spere will be the altar of the pilgrim's, devotions. 

My baggage was set down, the coachman and guard tipped 



276 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



their hats for a shilling, and, chilled to the bone, I raised my 
hat instinctively to the courtesy of a slender gentlewoman in 
black, who, by the keys at her girdle should be the landlady. 
Having expected to see a rosy little Mrs. Boniface, with a 
brown pinafore and worsted mittens, I made up my mind at 
once that the inn had changed mistresses. On the right of 
the old-fashioned entrance blazed cheerily the kitchen fire, and 
with my enthusiasm rather dashed by my disappointment, I 
stepped in to make friends with the cook, and get a little* 
warmth and information. 

" So your old mistress is dead, ]\fys. Cook," said I rubbing 
my hands with great satisfaction between the fire and a well- 
roasted chicken. 

" Lauk, sir, no, she isn't !" answered the rosy lass, pointing 
with a dredging-box to the same respectable lady in black who 
was just entering to look after me. 

" I beg pardon, sir," she said, dropping a courtesy ; " but 
are you the gentleman expected by Sir Charles ?" 

" Yes, madam. And can you tell me anything of your pre- 
decessor who had the inn in the days of Washington Irving ?" 

She dropped another courtesy and drew up her thin person 
to its full height, while a smile of gratified vanity stole out at 
the corners of her mouth. 

"The carriage has been waiting some time for you, sir," 
she said, with a softer tone than that in which she had hitherto 

addressed me ; " and you will hardly be at C . in time 

for dinner. You will be coming over to-morrow or the day 
after, perhaps, sir ; and then, if you would honor my little 
room by taking a cup of tea with me, I should be pleased to 
tell you all about it, sir." 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 2 77 



I remembered a promise I had nearly forgotten, that I 
would reserve my visit to Stratford till I could be accompa- 
nied by Miss Jane Porter, whom I was to have the honor of 
meeting at my place of destination; and promising an early 
acceptance of the kind landlady's invitation, I hurried on to 
my appointment over the fertile hills of Warwickshire. 

I was established in one of those old Elizabethan country- 
houses, which, with their vast parks, their self-sufficing re- 
sources of subsistence and company, and the absolute defer- 
ence shown on all sides to the lord of the manor, give one the 
impression rather of a little kingdom with a castle in its heart, 
than of an abode for a gentleman subject. The house itself, 
(called, like most houses of this size and consequence in War- 
wickshire, a " Court,") was a Gothic, half-castellated square, 
with four round towers, and innumerable embrasures and 
windows ; two wings in front, probably more modern than 
the body of the house, and again two long wings extending to 
the rear, at right angles, and enclosing a flowery and formal 
parterre. There had been a trench about it, now filled up, 
and at a short distance from the house stood a polyangular 
and massive structure, well calculated for defence, and intend- 
ed as a strong-hold for the retreat of the family and tenants in 
more troubled times. One of these rear wings enclosed a ca- 
tholic chapel, for the worship of the Baronet and those of his 
tenants who professed the same faith ; while on the nor- 
thern side, between the house and the garden, stood a large 
protestant stone church, with a turret and spire, both chapel 
and church, with their clergyman and priest, dependant on the 
estate, and equally favored by the liberal and high-minded ba- 
ronet. The tenantry formed two considerable congregations, 



278 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

and lived and worshipped side by side, with the most perfect 
harmony — an instance of real Christianity, in my opinion, 
which the angels of heaven might come down to see. A lovely 
rural graveyard for the lord and tenants, and a secluded lake 
below the garden, in which hundreds of wild ducks swam and 

screamed unmolested, completed the outward features of C 

court. 

There are noble houses in England, with a door communi- 
cating from the dining-room to the stables, that the master and 
his friends may see their favorites, after dinner, without expo- 
sure to the weather. In the place of this rather bizarre luxury, 

the oak-pannelled and spacious dining-hall of C is on a 

level with the organ loft of the chapel, and when the cloth is 
removed, the large door between is thrown open, and the noble 
instrument poms the rich and thrilling music of vespers 
through the rooms. "When the service is concluded, and the 
lio-hts on the altar extinguished, the blind organist (an accom- 
plished musician, and a tenant on the estate) continues his 
voluntaries in the dark until the hall-door informs him of the 
retreat of the company to the drawing-room. There is not 
only refinement and luxury in this beautiful arrangement, but 
food for the soul and heart. 

I chose my room from among the endless vacant but equal- 
ly luxurious chambers of the rambling ojd house; my prefer- 
ence solely directed by the portrait of a nun, one of the family 
in ages gone by — a picture full of melancholy beauty, which 
hung opposite the window. The face was distinguished by 
all that in England marks the gentlewoman of ancient and 
pure descent ; and while it was a woman with the more tender 
qualities of her sex breathing through her features, it was still 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 279 



lofty and sainted sister, true to her cross, and sincere in her 
)\vs and seclusion. It was the work of a master, probably 

andvk, and a picture in w T hich the most solitary man would 
nd company and communion. On the other walls, and in 
lost of the other rooms and corridors, were distributed por- 
pits of the gentlemen and soldiers of the family, most of 
nem bearing some resemblance to the nun, but differing, as 
rothers in those wild times may be supposed to have differed 
rom the gentle creatures of the same blood, nursed in the 
trivacy of peace. 



VISIT TO STRATFORD-ON-AVON— SHAKSPERE 



One of the first visits in the neighborhood was naturally to 
Stratford-on-Avon. It lay some ten miles south of us, and I 
drove down, with the distinguished literary friend I have be- 
fore mentioned, in the carriage of our kind host, securing, by 
the presence of his servants and equipage, a degree of respect 
and attention which would not have been accorded to us in 
our simple character of travellers. The prim mistress of the 
" Red Horse," in her close black bonnet and widow's weeds, 
received us at the door with a deeper courtesy than usual, and 
a smile of less wintry formality; and proposing to dine at the 
inn, and " suck the brain" of the hostess more at our leisure, 
we started immediately for the house of the wool-comber — 
the birthplace of Shakspere. 
[280] 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 2gl 

Stratford should have been forbidden ground to builders, 
masons, shopkeepers, and generally to all people of thrift and 
whitewash. It is now rather a smart town, with gay calicoes, 
shawls of the last pattern, hardware, and millinery, exhibited 
in all their splendor down the widened and newer streets ; — 
and though here and there remains a gloomy and inconvenient 
abode, which looks as if Shakspere might have taken shelter 
under its eaves, the gayer features of the town have the best 
of it, and flaunt their gaudy and uninspected newness in the 
very windows of that immortal birthplace. I stepped into a 
shop to inquire the way to it. 

" Shiks]jer' > s 'ouse, sir ? Yes, sir !" said a dapper clerk, 
with his hair astonished into the most impossible directions by 
force of brushing; M keep to the right, sir! Shiksper lived in 
the wite 'ouse, sir — the 'ouse, you see beyond, with the windy 
swung up, sir." 

A low, old-fashioned house, with a window suspended on 
a hinge, newly whitewashed and scrubbed, stood a little up 
the street. A sign over the door informed us in an inflated 
paragraph, that the immortal Will Shakspere was born under 
this roof, and that an old woman within would show it to us 
for a consideration. It had been used until very lately, I 
had been told, for a butcher's shop. 

A " garrulous old lady" met us at the bottom of the narrow 
stair leading to the .second floor, and began — not to say any- 
thing of Shakspere — but to show us the names of Byron, 
Moore, Rogers, &c, written among thousands of others, on 
the wall ! She had worn out Shakspere ! She had told that 
story till she was tired of it ! or (what, perhaps, is more pro- 
bable) most people who go there fall to reading the names of 



282 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

the visiters so industriously, that she has grown to think some 
of Shakspere's pilgrims greater than Shakspeare. 

" Was this old oaken chest here in the days of Shakspere, 
madam ?" I asked. 

" Yes, sir, and here's the name of Byron, with a capital 
B. Here's a curiosity, sir." 

" And this small wooden box ?" 

" Made of Shakspere's mulberry, sir. I had sich a time 
about that box, sir. Two young gemmen were here the other 
day — -just run up, while the coach was changing horses, to 
see the house. As soon as they were gone I misses my box. 
Off scuds my son to the ' Bed Horse,' and there they sat on 
the top looking as innocent as may be. ' Stop the coach,' 
says my son. ' AVhat do you want ?' says the driver. ' My 
mother's mulberry box — Shakspere's mulberry box ! — One of 
them 'ere young men's got it in his pocket.' And true enough, 
sir, one on 'em had the imperence to take it out of his pocket, 
and fling it into my son's face : and you know the coach never 
stops a minnit for nothing, or he'd a' smarted for it." 

Spirit of Shakspere ! dost thou not sometimes walk alone 
in this humble chamber ! Must one's inmost soul be fretted 
and frighted always from its devotion by an abominable old 
woman ? Why should not such lucrative occupations be 
given in charity to the deaf and dumb ? The pointing of a 
finger were enough in such spots of earth ! 

I sat down in despair to look over the book of visiters, 
trusting that she would tire of my inattention. As it was no 
use to point out names to those who would not look, however, 
she commenced a long story of an American who had lately 
taken the whim to sleep in Shakspere's birthplace. She had 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 2 gg 



shaken him down a bed on the floor, and he had passed the 
night there. It seemed to bother her to comprehend why two- 
thirds of her visiters should be Americans — a circumstance 
that was abundantly proved by the books. 

It was only when we were fairly in the street, that I began 
to realize that I had seen one of the most glorious altars of 
memory — that deathless Will Shakspere, the mortal, who 
was, perhaps (not to speak profanely) next to his Maker, in 
the divine faculty of creation, first saw the light through the 
low lattice on which we turned back to look. 

The single window of the room in which Scott died at Ab- 
botsford, and this in the birth-chamber of Shakspere, have 
seemed to me almost marked with the touch of the fire of 
those great souls — for I think we have an instinct which tells 
us on the spot where mighty spirits have come or gone, that 
they came and went with the light of heaven. 

We walked down the street to see the house where Shaks- 
pere lived on his return to Stratford. It stands at the corner 
of a lane, not far from the church where he was buried, and is 
a newish un-Shaksperian looking place — no doubt, if it be in- 
deed the same house, most profanely and considerably altered. 
The present proprietor or occupant of the house or site took 
upon himself some time since the odium of cutting down the 
famous mulberry tree planted by the poet's hand in the 
garden. 

I forgot to mention in the beginning of these notes that 
two or three miles before coming to Stratford we passed 
through Shottery, where Anne Hathaway lived. A nephew of 
the excellent baronet whose guests we were occupies the 
house. I looked up and clown the green lanes about it, and 



284 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



glanced my eye round upon the hills over which the sun hain 
continued to set and the moon to ride in her love inspiring;! 
beauty ever since. There were doubtless outlines in the land- 
scape which had been followed by the eye of Shakespean 
when coming, a trembling lover, to Shottery — doubtless, teints 
in the sky, crops on the fields, smoke-wreaths from the old 
homesteads on the high hill-sides which are little altered now. 
How daringly imagination plucks back the past in such places ! 
How boldly we ask of fancy and probability the thousand 
questions we would put, if we might, to the magic mirror, of 
Agrippa ? Did that great mortal love timidly, like ourselves ? 3 
Was the passionate outpouring of his heart simple, and suited ! 
to the humble condition of Anne Hathaway, or was it the 
first fiery coinage of Romeo and Othello ? Did she know the 
immortal honor and light poured upon woman by the love of ge- 
nius ? Did she know how this common and oftenest terrestrial 
passion becomes fused in the poet's bosom with celestial fire, 
and, in its wondrous elevation and purity, ascends lambently 
and musically to the very stars ? Did she coy it with him ? Was 
she a ivoman to him, as commoner mortals find woman — capri- 
cious, tender, cruel, intoxicating, cold — everything by changes 
impossible to calculate or foresee ? Did he walk home to 
Stratford, sometimes, despairing, in perfect sick heartednes3, of 
her affection, and was he recalled by a message or a lover's 
instinct to find her weeping and passionately repentant? 

How natural it is \>y such questions and speculations to be- 
tray our innate desire to bring the lofty spirits of our common 
mould to our own inward level — to seek analogies between our 
alfections, passions, appetites, and theirs — to wish they might 
have been no more exalted, no more fervent, no more worthy of 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 28f 

the adorable love of woman than ourselves ! The same temper 
•that prompts the depreciation, the envy, the hatred, exercised 
toward the poet in his lifetime, mingles, not inconsiderably, in 
the researches so industriously prosecuted after his death into 
his youth and history. To be admired in this world, and much 
more to be beloved for higher qualities than his fellow-men, 
insures to genius not only to be persecuted in life, but to be fer- 
reted out with all his frailties and imperfections from the grave. 
The church in which Shakspere is buried stands near the 
banks of the Avon, and is a most picturesque and proper place 
of repose for his ashes. An avenue of small trees and vines, inge- 
niously overlaced, extends from the street to the principal door, 
and the interior is Vroken up into that confused and accidental 
medley of tombs, pews, cross-lights, and pillars, for which the 
old churches of England are remarkable. The tomb and 
effigy of the great poet lie in an inner chapel, and are as de- 
scribed in every traveller's book. I will not take up room 
with the repetition. 

It gives one an odd feeling to see the tomb of his wife and 
daughter beside him. One does not realize before, that Shak- 
spere had wife, children, kinsmen, like other men — that there 
were those who had a right to lie in the same tomb ; to whom 
he owed the charities of life ; whom he may have benefited 
or offended ; who may have influenced materially his elestiny, 
or he theirs ; who were the inheritors of his household goods, 
his wardrobe, his books — people who looked on him — on Shak- 
spere — as a landholder, a renter of a pew, a townsman ; a re- 
lative, in short, who had claims upon them, not for the eter- 
nal homage due to celestial inspiration, but for the charity of 
shelter and bread had he been poor, for kindness and ministry 



286 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



had he been sick, for burial and the tears of natural affection 
when he died. It is painful and embarrassing to the mind to 
go to Stratford — to reconcile the immortality and the incom- 
prehensible power of genius like Shakspere's, with the space, 
tenement, and circumstance of a man ! The poet should be 
like the sea-bird, seen only on the wing — his birth, his slum- 
ber, and his death, mysteries alike. 

I had stipulated with the hostess that my baggage should 
be put into the chamber occupied by AVashington Irving. I 
was shown into it to dress for dinner — a small neat room, 1 
perfect specimen, in short, of an English bedroom, with snow- 
white curtains, a looking-glass the size of the face, a well-pol- 
ished grate and poker, a well-fitted carpet, and as much light 
as heaven permits to the climate. 

Our dinner for two was served in a neat parlor on the same 
floor — an English inn dinner — simple, neat and comfortable, 
in the sense of that word unknown in other countries. There 
was just fire enough in the grate, just, enough for two in the 
different dishes, a»servant who was just enough in the room, 
and just civil enough — in short, it was, like everything else in 
that country of adaptation and fitness, just what was ordered 
and wanted, and no more. 

The evening turned out stormy, and the rain pattered mer- 
rily against the windows. The shutters were closed, the fire 
blazed up with new brightness, the well fitted wax lights were 
set on the table; and when the dishes were removed, we re- 
placed the wine with a tea tray, and Miss Porter sent for the 
hostess to give us her company and a little gossip over our 
cups. 

Nothing could be more nicely understood and defined than 



TALKS OYER TRAVEL. 2 87 



the manner of English hostesses generally in such situations, 
and of Mrs. Gardiner particularly in this. Eespectful without 
servility, perfectly sure of the propriety of her own manner 
and mode of expression, yet preserving in every look and 
word the proper distinction between herself and her guests, 
she insured from them that kindness and ease of communica- 
tion which would make a long evening of social conversation 
pass, not only without embarrassment on either side, but with 
mutual pleasure and gratification. 

"I have brought up, mem," she said, producing a well-pol- 
ished poker from under her black apron, before she took the 
chair set for her at the table — " I have brought up a relic for 
you to see, that no money would buy from me." 

She turned it over in my hand, and I read on one of the 
flat sides at the bottom — " geoffrey crayon's sceptre." 

" Do you remember Mr. Irving," asked my friend, " or have 
you supposed, since reading his sketch of Sferatford-on-Avon 
that the gentleman in number three might be the person ?" 

The hostess drew up her thin figure, and the expression of 
a person about to compliment herself stole into the corners of 
her mouth. 

« Why, you see, mem, I am very much in the habit of ob- 
serving my guests, and I think I may say I knows a superior 
gentleman when I sees him. If you remember, mem," (and 
she took down from the mantle-piece a much-worn copy of 
the Sketch-Book,) " Geoffrey Crayon tells the circumstance of 
my stepping in when it was getting late, and asking if he had 
rung. I knows it by that, and then the gentleman I mean was 
an American, and I think, mem, besides," (and she hesitated a 
little, as if she was about to advance an original and rather 



«^88 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



venturesome opinion) — " I think I can see that gentleman's 
likeness all through this book." 

A truer remark or a more just criticism was perhaps never 
made on the S ketch-Book. We smiled, and Mrs. Gardiner 
proceeded : — 

" I was in and out of the coffee room the night he arrived, 
mem, and I sees directly by his modest ways and timid look 
that he was a gentleman, and not fit company for the other 
travellers. They were all young men, sir, and business trav- 
ellers, and you know, mem, ignorance takes the advantage of 
modest merit, and after their dinner they were very noisy and 
rude. So, I says to Sarah, the chambermaid, says I, 'That 
nice gentleman can't get near the fire, and you go and light a 
fire in number three, and he shall sit alone, and it shan't cost 
him nothing, for I like the look on him.' Well, mem, he 
seemed pleased to be alone, and after his tea, he puts his legs 
up over the grate, and there he sits with the poker in his hand 
till ten o'clock. The other travellers went to bed, and at last 
the hoTise was as still as midnight, all but a poke in the grate 
now and then in number three, and every time I heard it, I 
jumped up and lit a bed candle, for I was getting very sleepy, 
and I hoped he was getting up to ring for a light. Well, 
mem, I nodded and nodded, and still no ring at the bell. At 
last I says to Sarah, says I, ' Go into number three, and upset 
something, for I am sure that gentleman has fallen asleep.' — 
' La, ma'am,' says Sarah, ' I don't dare.' • Well, then,' says I, 
'Til go.' So I opens the door, and I says, ' If you please, 
sir, did you ring ?' — little thinking that question would ever be 
written down in such a beautiful book, mem. He sat with 
his feet on the fender poking the fire, and a smile on his face, 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 



289 



as if some pleasant thought was in his mind. ' No, ma'am,' 
snys he, ' I did not.' I shuts the door, and sits down again, 
for I hadn't the heart to tell him that it was late, for he ivas a 
gentleman not to speak rudely to, mem. Well, it was past 
twelve o'clock when the b'ell did ring. 'There,' says I to 
Sarah, ' thank Heaven he has done thinking, and we can go to 
bed.' So he walked up stairs with his light, and the next 
morning he was up early and off to the Shakspere house, and 
he brings me home a box of the mulberry tree, and asks me 
if I thought it was genuine, and said it was for his mother in 
America. And I loved him still more for that, and I'm sure 
I prayed she might live to see him return. 
m "I believe she did, Mrs. Gardiner; but how soon after did 
you set aside the poker ?" 

" Why, sir, you see there's a Mr. Vincent that comes here 
sometimes, and he says to me one day — ' So, Mrs. Gardiner, 
you're finely immortalized. Kead that.' So the minnit I read 
it, I remembered who it was, and all about it, and I runs and 
gets the number three poker, and locks it up safe and sound, 
and by-and-by I sends it to Brummagem, and has his name 
engraved on it, and here you see it, sir — and I wouldn't take 
no money for it." 

I had never the honor to meet or know Mr. Irving, and I 
evidently lost ground with the hostess of the " Ked Horse 1 
for that misfortune. I delighted her, however, with the 
account which I had seen in a late newspaper, of his having 
shot a buffalo in the prairies of the west ; and she soon cour- 
tesied herself out, and left me to the delightful society of the' 
distinguished lady who had accompanied me. Among all my 
many loiterings in many lands, I remember none more intel- 



290 FAMOUS PERSONS AND TLACES. 

lectually pure and gratifying, than this at Stratford-on-Avon. 
My sleep, in the little bed consecrated by the slumbers of the 
immortal Geoffrey, was sweet and light ; and I write myself 
his debtor for a large share of the pleasure which genius like 
his lavishes on the world. 



CHAELECOTE. 



Oxce more posting through Shottery and Stratford on- 
Avon, on the road to Kenilworth and Warwick, I felt a plea- 
sure in becoming an habitue in Shakspere's town — it being 
recognized by the Stratford post-boys, known at the Stratford 
inn, and remembered at the toll-gates. It is pleasant to be 
welcomed by name anywhere; but at Stratford-on-Avon, it is 
a recognition by those whose fathers or predecessors were the 
companions of Shakspere's frolics. Every fellow in a slouched 
hat — every idler on a tavern bench — every saunterer with a 
dog at his heels on the highway — should be a deer-stealer 
from Charlecote. You would almost ask him, " Was Will 
Shakspere with you last night ?" 
[291] 



292 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



The Lucys still live at pharlecote, immortalized by a varlet 
poacher who was tried before old Sir Thomas for stealing a 
buck. They have drawn an apology from Walter Savage 
Landor for making too free with the family history, under 
cover of an imaginary account of the trial. I thought, as we 
drove along in sight of the fine old hall, with its broad park 
and majestic trees — very much as it stood in the days of Sir 
Thomas, I believe — that most probably the descendants of the 
old justice look even now upon Shakspere more as an offender 
against the game-laws than as a writer of immortal plays. I 
venture to say, it would be bad tact in a visiter to Charlecote 
to felicitate the family on the honor of possessing a park in 
which Shakspere had stolen deer — to show more interest in 
seeing the hall in which he was tried than in the family 
portraits. 

On the road which I was travelling (from Stratford to 
Charlecote) Shakspere had been dragged as a culprit. What 
were his feelings before Sir Thomas ? He felt, doubtless, as 
every possessor of the divine fire of genius must feel, when 
brought rudely in contact with his fellow-men, that he was too 
much their superior to be angry. The humor in which he has 
drawn Justice Shallow proves abundantly that he was more 
amused than displeased with his own trial. But was there no 
vexation at the moment ? A reflection, it might be, from the 
estimate of his position in the minds of those who were about 
him — who looked on him simply as a stealer of so much 
venison. Did he care for Anne Hathaway's opinion then ? 

How little did Sir Thomas Lucy understand the relation be- 
tween Judge and culprit on that trial ! How little did he 
dream he was sitting for his picture to the pestilent varlet at 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 293 

the bar ; that the deer-stealer could better afford to forgive 
him than he the deer-stealer ! Genius forgives, or rather for- 
gets, all wrongs done in ignorance of its immortal presence. 
Had Ben Jonson made a wilful jest on a line in his new play, 
it would have rankled longer than fine and imprisonment for 
deer-stealing. Those who crowd back and trample upon men 
of genius in the common walk of life ; who cheat them, mis- 
represent them, take advantage of their inattention or their 
generosity in worldly matters, are sometimes surprised how 
their injuries, if not themselves, are forgotten. Old Adam 
Woodcock might as well have held malice against Eoland 
Graeme for the stab in the stuffed doublet of the Abbot of 
Misrule. 

Yet, as I might have remarked in the paragraph gone 
before, it is probably not easy to put conscious and secret su- 
periority entirely between the mind and the opinions of those 
around who think differently. It is one reason why men of 
genius love more than the common share of solitude — to recover 
self-respect. In the midst of the amusing travesty he was 
drawing in his own mind of the grave scene about him, Shak- 
spere possibly felt at moments as like a detected culprit as he 
seemed to the gamekeeper and the justice. It is a small pen- 
alty to pay for the after worship of the world ! The ragged 
and proverbially ill-dressed peasants who are selected from 
the whole campagna, as models to the sculptors of Rome, care 
little what is thought of their good looks in the. Corso. The 
disguised proportions beneath their rags will be admired in 
deathless marble, when the noble who scarce deigns their 
possessor a look will lie in forgotten dust, under his stone 
scutcheon. 



WAEWICK CA8TL 



Were it not for the " out-beroded " descriptions in the 
guide books, one might say a great deal of Warwick castle. 
It is the quality of overdone or ill-expressed enthusiasm to 
silence that which is more rational and real. Warwick is, 
perhaps, the best kept of all the famous old castles of England. 
It is a superb and admirably-appointed modern dwelling, in 
the shell, and with all the means and appliances preserved of 
an ancient stronghold. It is a curious union, too. My 
lady's maid and my lord's valet coquet upon the bartizan, 
where old Guy of Warwick stalked in his coat-of-mail. The 
London cockney, from his two days' watering at Leamington, 
stops his pony-chaise, hired at half-a-crown the hour, and 
[294] 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 295 

walks Mrs. Popkins over the old draw-bridge as peacefully as 
if it were the threshold of his shop in the Strand. Scot and 
Frenchman saunter through fosse and tower, and no ghost of 
the middle ages stalks forth, with closed visor, to challenge 
these once natural foes. The powdered butler }-awns through 
an embrasure, expecting :i miladi," the countess of this fair do- 
main, who in one day's posting from London seeks relief in 
Warwick castle from the routs and soirees of town. What 
would old Guy say, or the " noble imp" whose effigy is among 
the escutcheoned tombs of his fathers, if they could rise 
through their marble slabs, and be whirled over the draw- 
bridge in a post-chaise ? How indignantly they would listen 
to the reckoning within their own port-cullis, of the rates for 
chaise and postillion. How astonished they would be at the 
butler's bow and the proffered officiousness of the valet. 
" Shall I draw off your lordship's boots ? Which of these 
new vests from Staub will you lordship put on for dinner?" 

Among the pictures at Warwick, I was interested by a por- 
trait of Queen Elizabeth (the best of that sovereign I ever saw ;) 
one of Machiavelli, one of Essex, and one of Sir Philip Sidney. 
The delightful and gifted woman whom I had accompanied to 
the castle observed of the latter, that the hand alone expressed 
all his character. I had often made the remark.in real life, but 1 
had never seen an instance on painting where the like 
ness was so true. No one could doubt, who knew Sir Philip 
Sidney's character, that it was a literal portrait of his hand. 
In our day, if you have an artist for a friend, he makes use of 
you while you call, to " sit for the hand" of the portrait on 
his easel. Having a preference for the society of artists my- 
self, and frequenting their studios habitually, I know of some 



296 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



hundred and fifty unsuspecting gentlemen on canvass, who 
have procured for posterity and their children portraits of their 
own heads and dress-coats to be sure, but of the hands of 
o'her persons ! 

The head of Machiavelli is, as is seen in the marble in the 
gallery of Florence, small, slender, and visibly " made to creep 
into crevices." The face is-impassive and calm, and the lips, 
though slight and almost feminine, have an indefinable firmness 
and character. Essex is the bold, plain, and blunt soldier 
history makes him, and Elizabeth not unqueenly, nor (to my 
thinking) of an uninteresting countenance; but, with all the 
artist's flattery, ugly enough to be the abode of the murderous 
envy that brought Mary to the block. 

We paid our five shillings for having been walked through 
the marble hall of Castle Warwick, and the dressing room of 
its modern lady, and, gratified much more by our visit than I 
have expressed in this brief description, posted on to Kenil- 
worth. 



KENILWOETH 



On the road from Warwick to Kenil worth, I thought more 
of poor Pierce Gaveston than of Elizabeth and her proud earls. 
Edward's gay favorite was tried at Warwick, and beheaded 
on Blacklow hill, which we passed soon after leaving the town. 
He was executed in June ; and I looked about on the lovely- 
hills and valleys that surround the place of his last moments, 
and figured to myself very vividly his despair at this hurried 
leave-taking of this bright world in its brightest spot and hour. 
Poor Gaveston ! It was not in his vocation to die ! He was 
neither soldier nor prelate, hermit nor monk. His political 
nns, for which he suffered, were no offence against good fel- 
lowship, and were ten times more venial than those of the 
[297] 



298 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

" black dog of Arden," who betrayed and helped to murder 
him. He was the reckless minion of a king, but he must have 
been a merry and pleasant fellow ; and now that the world 
(on our side the water at least) is grown so grave, one could 
go back with Old Mortality, and freshen the epitaph of a heart 
that took life more gayly. 

As we approached the castle of the proud Leicester, I found 
it easier to people the road with the flying Amy Eobsart and 
her faithful attendant, with Mike Lambourne, Flibberligibbat, 
Richard Varney, and the troop of mummers and players, than 
with the more real characters of history. To assist the ro- 
mance, a little Italian boy, with his organ and monkey, was 
fording the brook on his way to the castle, as if its old towers 
still held listeners for the wandering minstrel. I tossed him a 
shilling from the carriage window, and while the horses slowly 
forded the brook, asked him in his own delicious tongue, 
where he w 7 as from. 

" Son 1 di Firenze, signore /" 

" And where are you going ?" 

" Id J al castetto." 

Come from Florence and bound to Kenilworth ! Who 
would not grind an organ and sleep under a hedge, to answer 
the hail of the passing traveller in terms like these ? I have 
seen many a beggar in Italy, whose inheritance of sunshine 
and leisure in that delicious clime I could have found it in my 
heart to envy, even with all its concomitants of uncertainty 
and want ; but here was a bright faced and inky-eyed child 
of the sun, with his wardrobe and means upon his back, tra- 
velling from one land to another, and loitering wherever there 
was a resort for pleasure, without a friend or a care ; and, 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 2Qg 



upon my life, I could have donned his velveteen jacket, and 
with his cheerful heart to button it over, have shouldered his 
organ, put my trust in iforestieri, and kept on for Kenilworth. 
There really is, I thought, as I left him behind, no profit or 
reward consequent upon a life of confinement and toil ; no 
moss ever gathered by the unturned stone, that repays, by a 
thousandth part, the loss of even this poor boy's share of the 
pleasures of change. What would not the tardy winner of 
fortune give to exchange his worn-out frame, his unloveable 
and furrowed features, his dulled senses, and his vain regrets, 
for the elastic frame, the unbroken spirits, and the redeemable 
yet not oppressive poverty of this Florentine regazzo / The 
irrecoverable gem of youth is too often dissolved, like the 
pearl of Cleopatra, in a cup which thins the blood and leaves 
disgust upon the lip. 

The magnificent ruins of Kenilworth broke in upon my mo- 
ralities, and a crowd of halt and crippled ciceroni beset the 
carriage door as we alighted at the outer tower. The neigh- 
borhood of the Spa of Leamington makes Kenilworth a place 
of easy resort ; and the beggars of Warwickshire have discov- 
ered that your traveller is more liberal of his coin than your 
sitter-at-home. Some dozens of pony-chaises, and small, crop 
saddle-horses, clustered around the gate, assured us that we 
should not muse alone amid the ruins of Elizabeth's princely 
gift to her favorite. We passed into the tilt-yard, leaving on 
our left the tower in which Edward was confined, now the 
only habitable part of Kenilworth. It gives a comfortable 
shelter to an old seneschal, who stands where the giant prob- 
ably stood, with Flibbertigibbet under his doublet for a 



300 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

prompter ; but it is not the tail of a rhyme that serves now 
for a passport. 

Kenil worth, as it now stands, would probably disenchant 
almost any one of the gorgeous dreams conjured up by read- 
ing Scott's romance. Yet it is one of the most superb ruins 
in the world. It would scarce be complete to a novel-reader, 
naturally, without a warder at the gate, and the flashing of a 
spear-point and helmet through the embrasures of the tower. 
A horseman in armor should pace over the draw-bridge, and 
a squire be seen polishing his cuiras through the opening gate ; 
while on the airy bartizan should be observed a lady in hoop 
and farthingdale, philandering with my lord of Leicester in 
silk doublet and rapier. In the place of this, the visiter enters 
Kenilworth as I have already described, and stepping out into 
the tilt-yard, he sees, on an elevation before him, a fretted and 
ivy-covered ruin, relieved like a cloud-castle on the sky ; the 
bright blue plane of the western heavens shining through win- 
dow and broken wall, flecked with waving and luxuriant 
leaves, and the crusted and ornamental pinnacles of tottering 
masonry and sculpture just leaning to their fall, though the 
foundations upon which they were laid, one would still think, 
might sustain the firmament. The swelling root of a creeper 
has lifted that arch from its base, and the protruding branch 
of a chance-sprung tree, (sown perhaps by a field-sparrow) 
has unseated the keystone of the next; and so perish castles 
and reputations, the masonry of the human hand, and the fab- 
rics of human forethought ; not by the strength which they 
feared, but by the weakness they despised ! Little thought 
old John of Gaunt, when these rudely-hewn blocks were 
heaved into their seat by his herculean workmen, that, after 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 301 



resisting fire and foe, they would be sapped and overthrown 
at last by a vine-tendril and a sparrow ! 

Clinging against the outer wall, on that side of the castle 
overlooking the meadow, which was overflowed for the aquatic 
sports of Kenilworth, stands an antique and highly ornamental 
fireplace, which belonged, doubtless, to the principal hall. 
The windows on either side looking forth upon the fields be- 
low, must have been those from which Elizabeth and her train 
observed the feats of Arion and his dolphin ; and at all times, 
the large and spacious chimney-place, from the castle's first 
occupation to its last, must have been the centre of the even- 
ing revelry, and conversation of its guests. It was a hook 
whereon to hang a revery, and between the roars of vulgar 
laughter which assailed my ears from a party lolling on the 
grass below, I contrived to figure to myself, with some dis- 
tinctness, the personages who had stood about it. A visit to 
Kenilworth, without the deceptions of fancy, would be as dis- 
connected from our previous enthusiasm on the subject as 
from any other scene with which it had no relation. The gen- 
eral effect at first, in any such spot, is only to dispossess us, 
by a powerful violence, of the cherished picture we had drawn 
of it in imagination ; and it is only after the real recollection 
has taken root and ripened — after months, it may be — that we 
can fully bring the visionary characters w T e have drawn to in- 
habit it. If I read Kenilworth now, I see Mike Lambourne 
stealing out, not from the ruined postern which I clambered 
through, over heaps of rubbish, but from a little gate that 
turned noiselessly on its hinges, in the unreal castle built ten 
years ago in my brain. 

I had wandered away from my companion, Miss Jane Por- 



302 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

ter, to climb up a secret staircase in the wall, rather too diffi- 
cult of ascent for a female foot, and from my elevated position 
I caught an accidental view of that distinguished lady through 
the arch of a Gothic window, with a background of broken 
architecture and foliage — presenting, by chance, perhaps the 
most fitting and admirable picture of the authoress of the 
Scottish Chiefs, that a painter in his brightest hour could 
have fancied. Miss Porter, with her tall and striking figure, 
her noble face (said by Sir Martin Shee to have approached 
nearer in its youth to his beau ideal of the female features than 
any other, and still possessing the remains of uncommon 
beauty,) is at all times a person whom it would be difficult to 
see without a feeling of involuntary admiration. But standing, 
as I saw her at that moment, motionless and erect, in the 
mourning dress, with dark feathers, which she has worn since 
the death of her beloved and gifted sister, her wrists folded 
across, her large and still beautiful eyes fixed on a distant ob- 
ject in the view, and her nobly-cast lineaments reposing in 
their usual calm and benevolent tranquillity, while, around 
and above her, lay the material and breathed the spirit over 
which she had held the first great mastery — it was a tableau 
vivant which I was sorry to be alone to see. 

Was she thinking of the great mind that had evoked the 
spirits of the ruins she stood among — a mind in which (by Sir 
Walter's own confession) she had first bared the vein of ro- 
mance which breathed so freely for the world's delight? 
Were the visions which sweep with such supernatural dis- 
tinctness and rapidity through the imagination of genius — 
visions of which the millionth portion is probably scarce com- 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 303 



municated to the world in a literary lifetime — were Elizabeth s 
courtiers, Elizabeth's passions, secret hours, interviews with 
Leicester — were the imprisoned king's nights of ioneliness 
and dread, his hopes, his indignant, but unheeded thoughts 
— were all the possible circumstances, real or imaginary, of 
which that proud castle might have been the scene, thronging 
in those few moments of revery through her fancy? Or was 
her heart busy with its kindly affections, and had the beauty 
and interest of the scene but awakened a thought of one who 
was most wont to number with her the sands of those brighter 
hours ? 

Who shall say ? The very question would perhaps startle 
the thoughts beyond recall — so elusive are even the most an- 
gelic of the mind's unseen visitants. 

I have recorded here the speculations of a moment while I 
leaned over the wall of Kenilvvorth, but as I descended by the 
giddy staircase, a peal of rude laughter broke from the party 
in the fosse below, and I could not but speculate on the differ- 
ence between the various classes whom curiosity draws to the 
spot. The distinguished mind that conceives a romance that 
enchants the world, comes in the same guise and is treated 
with but the same respect as theirs. The old porter makes 
no distinction in his charge of half-a-crown, and the grocer's 
wife who sucks an orange on the grass, looks at the dark 
crape hat and plain exterior — her only standards — and 
thinks herself as well dressed, and therefore equal or supe- 
rior to the tall lady, whom she presumes is out like herself 
on a day's pleasuring. One comes and goes like the other, 
and is forgotten alike by the beggars at the gate and the 



304 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



1 



seneschal within, and thus invisibly and unsuspected, befoi 
our very eyes, does genius gather its golden fruit, and whr 
we walk in a plain and commonplace world, with commoi 
place and sordid thoughts and feelings, the gifted walk sid 
by side with us in a world of their own — a world of which w 
see distant glimpses in their after-creations, and marvel i 
what unsunned mine its gems of thought were gathered ! 



A VISIT TO DUBLIN ABOUT THE TIME OF 
THE QUEEN'S MAERIAGE. 



The usual directions for costume, in the corner of the court 
card of invitation, included, on the occasion of the Queen's 
marriage, a wedding favor, to be worn by ladies on the shoul- 
der, and by gentlemen on the left breast. This trifling ad- 
dition to the dress of the individual was a matter of consider- 
able importance to the milliners, hatters, etc., who, in a sale 
often or twelve hundred white cockades (price from two dol- 
lars to five) made a very pretty profit. The power of giving 
a large ball to the more expensive classes, and ordering a par- 
ticular addition to the costume — in other words, of laying a 
tax on the rich for the benefit of the poor, is exercised more 

frequently in Ireland than in other countries, and serves the 
[305] 



306 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



double purpose of popularity to the Lord Lieutenant, and 
benefit to any particular branch of industry that may be suf- 
fering from the decline of a fashion. 

The large quadrangular cou^-yard of the castle rattled 
with the tramp of horses' feet and the clatter of sabres and spurs, 
and in the uncertain glare of torches and lamps, the gay 
colors and glittering arms of the mounted guard of lancers 
had a most warlike appearance. The procession which the 
guard was stationed to regulate and protect, rather detracted 
from the romantic effect — the greater proportion of equipages 
being the covered hack cars of the city — vehicles of the most 
unmitigated and ludicrous vulgarity. A coffin for two, set on 
its end, with the driver riding on the turned-down lid, would 
be a very near resemblance ; and the rags of the driver, and 
the translucent leanness of his beast, make it altogether the 
most deplorable of conveyances. Here and there a carriage 
with liveries, and here and there a sedan-chair with fuur stout 
Milesian calves in blue stockings trotting under the poles, 
rather served as a foil than a mitigation of the effect, and the 
hour we passed in the line, edging slowly toward the castle, 
was far from unfruitful in amusement. I learned afterward 
that even those who have equipages in Dublin go to Court in 
hack cars as a matter of economy — one of the many indica- 
tions of that feeling of lost pride which has existed in Ire- 
land since the removal of the parliament. 

A hall and staircase lined with files of soldiers is not quite as 
festive an entrance to a ball as the more common one of alleys 
of flowering shrubs ; but with a waltz by a military band re- 
sounding from the lofty ceiling, I am not sure that it does not 
temper the blood as aptly for the spirit of the hour. It was 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL 3()7 



a rainy night, and the streets were dark, and the effect upon 
myself of coming suddenly into so enchanted a scene — arms 
glittering on either side, and a procession of uniforms and 
plumed dames winding up the spacious stairs — was thrilling, 
even with the chivalric scenes of Eglinton fresh in my remem- 
brance. 

At the head of the ascent we entered a long hall, lined with 
the private servants of Lord Ebrington, and the ceremony of 
presentation having been achieved the week before, we left the 
throne-room on the right, and passed directly to St. Patrick's 
Hall, the grand scene of the evening's festivities. This, I 
have said before, is the finest ball-room I remember in Europe. 
Twelve hundred people, seated, dancing, or promenading, were 
within its lofty walls on the night whose festivities I am 
describing; and at either end a gallery, supported by columns 
of marble, contained a band of music, relieving each other 
with alternate waltzes and quadrilles. On the long sides of 
the hall were raised tiers of divans, filled with chaperons, vet- 
eran officers, and other lookers-on, and at the upper end was 
raised a platform with a throne in the centre, and seats on 
either side for the family of the Lord Lieutenant, and the more 
distinguished persons of the nobility. Lord Ebrington was 
rather in his character of a noble host than that of Viceroy, 
and I did not observe him once seated under his canopy of 
state ; but with his Aids and some one of the noble ladies of 
his family on his arm, he promenaded the hall conversing with 
his acquaintances, and seemingly enjoying in a high degree the 
brilliant gayety of the scene. His dress, by the way, was the 
simple diplomatic dress of most continental courts, a blue 
uniform embroidered with gold, the various orders on his 



308 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



breast forming its principal distinction. I seldom have seen i 
man of a more calm and noble dignity of presence than the 
Lord Lieutenant, and never a face that expressed more 
strongly the benevolence and high purity of character foil 
which he is distinguished. In person, except that he is taller, 
he bears a remarkably close resemblance to the Duke of Wel- 
lington. 

We- can scarcely conceive, in this country of black coats, 
the brilliant effect of a large assembly in which there is no 
person out of uniform or court-dress — every lady's head nod- 
ding with plumes, and every gentleman in military scarlet and 
gold or lace and embroidery. I may add, too, that in this 
country of care-worn and pale faces, we can as little conceive 
the effect of an assembly rosy with universal health, habitually 
unacquainted with care, and abandoned with the apparent 
child-like simplicity of high breeding, to the inspiring gayety 
of the hour. The greater contrast, however, is between a 
nation where health is the first care, and one in which health 
is never thought of till lost; and light and shade are not more 
contrasted than the mere general effect of countenance in one 
and in the other. A stranger travelling in our country, once 
remarked to me that a party he had attended seemed like an 
entertainment given in the convalescent ward of a hospital — 
the ladies were so pale and fragile, and the men so unjoyous 
and sallow. And my own invariable impression, in the assem- 
blies I have first seen after leaving my own country, was a 
corresponding one — that the men and women had the rosy 
health and untroubled gayety of children round a May-pole. 
That this is not the effect of climate, I do most religiously 
believe. It is over -much care and over-much carelessness — the 



TALKS OVER .TRAVEL 



309 



corroding care of nn avid temerity in business, and the care- 
lessness of all the functions of life till their complaints become 
. e too imperative to be disregarded. But this is a theme out of 
place. 

The ball was managed by the Grand Chamberlain (Sir Wil- 
liam Leeson,) and the aids-de-camp of the Lord Lieutenant, 
and except that now and then you were reminded by the 
movement around }^ou that you stood with your back to the 
representative of royalty, there was little to draw your atten- 
tion from the attractions of the dance. Waltz, quadrille, and 
gallop, followed each other in giddy succession, and " what do 
you think of Irish beauty ?" had been asked me as often as 

'how do you like America?" was ever mumbled through the 
trumpet of Miss Martineau, when I mounted with a friend to 
one of the upper divans, and tried, what is always a difficult 
task, and nowhere so difficult as in Ireland, to call in the 
intoxicated fancy, and anatomize the charm of the hour. 

Moore's remark has been often quoted — "there is nothing 
like an Irish woman to take a man off his feet ;" but whether 
this figure of speech was suggested by the little bard's com- 
mon soubriquet of " Jump-up-and-kiss-me # Tom Moore," or 
simply conveyed his idea of the bewildering character of Irish 
beauty, it contains, to any one who has ever travelled (or 
waltzed) in that country, a very just, as' well as realizing 
description. Physically, Irish women are probably the finest 
race in the world — I mean, taller, better limbed and chested, 
larger eyed, and with more luxuriant hair, and freer action, 
than any other nation I have observed. The Phoenician and 
Spanish blood which has run hundreds of years in their veins, 

* The name of a small flower, common in Ireland. 



310 



"FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



still kindles its dark fire in their eyes, and with the vivacity 
of the northern mind and the bright color of the northern skin 
these southern qualities mingle in most admirable and super! 
harmony. The idea we form of Italian and Grecian beauty ii 
never realized in Greece and Italy, but we find it in Ireland 
heiohtened and exceeded. Cheeks and lips of the delicacy 
and bright teint of carnation, with snowy teeth, and hair anc 
eyebrows of jet, are what we should look for on the palette a 
Apelles, could we recall the painter, and re-animate his far; 
famed models; and these varied charms, united, fall ven 
commonly to the share of the fair Milesian of the uppe. 
classes. In other lands of dark eyes, the rareness of a finei 
grained skin, so necessary to a brunette, makes beauty as rare 
— but whether it is the damp softness of the climate or the in. 
fusion of Saxon blood, a coarse skin is almost never seen ii 
Ireland. I speak now only of the better-born ranks of society 
for in all my travels in Ireland I did not chance to see evei 
one peasant girl of any pretensions to good looks. Frorc 
north to south, they looked, to me, coarse, ill-formed, anc 
repulsive. 

I noticed in St. Patrick's Hall what I had remarked evei 
since I had been in the country, that with all their beauty 
the Irish women are very deficient in what in England is callec 
style. The men, dm the contrary, were particularly comme i 
faut, and as they are a magnificent race (corresponding U 
such mothers and sisters) I frequently observed I had nevei 
seen so many handsome and elegant men in a day. Whenevei 
I saw a gentleman and lady together, riding, driving, or walk 
ing, my first impression was, almost universally, that the mar 
was in attendance upon a woman of an inferior class to hit 



SECOND VISIT TO ENGLAND. 



311 



■vown. This difference may be partly accounted for by the re- 
educed circumstances of the gentry of Ireland, which keeps the 
'•"daughters at home, that the sons may travel and improve; but 
i* it works differently in America, where, spite of travel and 
every other advantage to the contrary, the daughters of a 
jffamily are much oftener lady-like than the sons are gentleman- 
like. After wondering for some time, however, why the quick- 
witted women of Ireland should be less apt than those of other 
countries in catching the air of high breeding usually deemed 
''so desirable, I began to like them better for the deficiency, 
and to find a reason for it in the very qualities which make 
them so attractive. Nothing could be more captivating and 
delightful than the manners of Irish women, and nothing, at 
the same time, could be more at war with the first principles 
1 of English high breeding — coldness and retenu. The frank, 
almost hilarious " how are you ?" of an Irish girl, her whole- 
handed and cordial grasp, as often in the day as you meet 
her, the perfectly un-missy-ish, confiding, direct character of 
her conversation, are all traits which would stamp her as 
somewhat rudely bred in England, and as desperately vulgar 
in New York or Philadelphia. 

Modest to a proverb, the Irish woman is as unsuspecting 
of an impropriety as if it were an impossible thing, and she is 
as fearless and joyous as a midshipman, and sometimes as 
noisy. In a ball-room she looks ill-dressed, not because her 
dress was ill-put-on, but because she dances, not glides, sits 
down without care, pulls her flowers to pieces, and if her 
head-dress incommodes her, gives it a pull or a push — acts 
which would be perfect insanity at Almack's. If she is 
offended, she asks for an explanation. If she does not under- 



3 1 2 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



stand you, she confesses her ignorance. If she wishes to see 
you the next day, she tells you how and when. She is the 
child of nature, and children are not "stylish." The niminy- 
piminy, eye-avoiding, finger-tipped, drawling, don't-touch-me 
manner of some of the fashionable ladies of our country, 
would amuse a cold and reserved English woman sufficiently, 
but they would drive an Irish girl into hysterics. I have met 
one of our fair country-people abroad, whose " Grecian 
stoop," and exquisitely subdued manner, was invariably taken 
for a fit of indigestion. 

The ball-supper was royally sumptuous, and served in a 
long hail thrown open at midnight; and in the gray of the 
morning, I left the floor covered with waltzers, and confessed 
to an Irish friend, that I never in mj life, not even at 
Almack's, had seen the half as much true beauty as had 
brightened St. Patrick's Hall at the celebration of the queen's 
marriage. 



CLOSING SCENES OF THE SESSION AT 
WASHINGTON. 



The paradox of " the more one does, the more one can do," 
is resolved in life at Washington with more success than I 
have seen it elsewhere. The inexorable bell at the hotel or 
boarding-house pronounces the irrevocable and swift transit oi 
breakfast to all sleepers after eight. The elastic depths of 
the pillow have scarcely yielded their last feather to tho 
sleeper's head before the drowse is rudely shaken from his 
eyelids, and with an alacrity which surprises himself, he finds 
his toilet achieved, his breakfast over, and himself abroad to 
lounge in the sunshine till the flag waves on the capitol. He 
would retire to his chamber to read during these two or three 
vacant hours, but the one chair in his pigeon-hole creaks, or 
14 [313] 



314 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



has no back or bottom, or bis anthracite fire is out, or, is too 
hot for the size of the room ; or, in short, Washington, from i 
whatever cause, is a place were none read except those who tin 
stand up to a padlocked newspaper. The stars and stripes, 
moving over the two wings of the Capitol at eleven announce ^ 
that the two chambers of legislation are in session, and the 
hard working idler makes his way to the senate or the house. 
He lingers in the lobby awhile, amused with the button-hole 
seizers plying the unwilling ears of members with their claims, 
or enters the library, where ladies turn over prints, and enfilade, 
with their battery of truant eyes the comers in at the green door. 
He then gropes up the dark staircase to the senate gallery, and 
stifles in the pressure of a hot gallery, forgetting, like listeners 
at a crowded opera, that bodily discomfort will unlink the 
finest harmonies of song or oratory. Thence he descends to 
the rotunda to draw breath and listen to the more practical, 
but quite as earnest eloquence of candidates for patents ; and 
passes, after a while to the crowded gallery of the house, 
where, by some acoustic phenomena in the construction of the 
building, the voices of the speakers come to his ears as articu- 
late as water from a narrow-necked bottle. "Small blame to 
them !" he thinks, how T ever ; for behind the brexia columns 
are grouped all the fair forms of Washington ; and in making 
his bow to two hundred despotic lawgivers in feathers and 
velvet, he is readily consoled that the duller legislators who 
yield to their sway are inaudible and forgotten. To this upper 
house drop in, occasionally, the younger or gayer members of 
the lower, bringing, if not political scandal, at least some slight 
resumer of what Mr. Somebody is beating his desk about be- 
low ; and thus, crammed with the day's trifles or the day's 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL 3l5 

business, and fatigued from heel to eyelid, our idler goes 
lome at five to dress for dinner and the night's campaign, 
laving been up and on his legs for ten mortal hours. 

Cold water and a little silence in his own room have rather 
•efreshed him, and he dines at six with a party of from fifteen 
x> twenty-five persons. He discusses the vital interests of 
iburteen millions of people over a glass of wine with the man 
whose vote, possibly, will decide their destiny, and thence hur- 
ries to a ball-room crammed like a perigord pie, where he 
pants, elbows, eats supper, and waltzes till three in the morn- 
ing. How human constitutions stand this, and stand it daily 
and nightly, from the beginning to the end of a session, may 
well puzzle the philosophy of those who rise and breakfast in 

comfortable leisure. 
I 

I joined the crowd on the twenty-second of February, to 

pay my respects to the President, and see the cheese. "What- 
ever veneration existed in the minds of the people toward the 
former, their curiosity in reference to the latter predominated, 
unquestionably. The circular pave, extending from the gate 
to the White House, was thronged with citizens of all classes, 
those coming away having each a small brown paper parcel 
and a very strong smell ; those advancing manifesting, by 
shakings of the head and frequent exclamations, that there 
may be too much of a good thing, and particularly of a 
cheese. The beautiful portico was thronged with boys and 
coach drivers, and the odor strengthened with every step. 
We forced our way over the threshold, and encountered an 
atmosphere, to which the mephitic gas floating over Avernua 
must be faint and .innocuous. On the side of the hall hung a 
rough likeness of the general, emblazoned with eagle and stars, 



316 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

forming a background to the huge tub in which the cheese, 
had been packed ; and in the centre of the vestibule stood th 
<: fragrant gift," surrounded with a dense crowd, who, withou - 
crackers, or even " malt to their cheese," had, in two hours 
eaten and purveyed awa} 7 fourteen hundred pounds ! The 
small segment reserved for the President's use counted. foi 
nothing in the abstractions. 

Glad to compromise for a breath of cheeseless air, we 
desisted from the struggle to obtain a sight of the table, and 
mingled with the crowd in the east room. Here were diplo 
mates in their gold coats and officers in uniform, ladies of 
secretaries and other ladies, soldiers on volunteer duty, and 
Indians in war-dress and paint. Bonnets, feathers, uniforms, 
and all — it was rather a gay assemblage. I remembered the 
descriptions in travellers' books, and looked out for millers and 
blacksmiths in their working gear, and for rudeness and vul- 
garity in all. The offer of a mammoth cheese to the public 
was likely to attract to the presidential mansion more of ^he 
lower class than would throng to a common levee. Great- 
coats there were, and not a few of Lhem, for the day was raw, 
and unless they were hung on the palings outside, they must 
remain on the owners' shoulders ; but, with a single exception 
(a fellow with his coat torn down his back, possibly in getting 
at the cheese,) I saw no man in a dress that was not respect- 
able and clean of its kind, and abundantly fit for a tradesman 
out of his shop. Those who were much pressed by the crowd 
put their hats on ; but there was a general air of decorum 
which would surprise any one who had pinned his faith on 
travellers. An intelligent Englishman, very much inclined to 
take a disgust to mobocracy, expressed to me great surprise 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 3t / 



it the decency and proper behavior of the people. The same 

3 experiment in England, he thought, would result in as pretty 
i riot as a paragraph-monger would desire to see. 

The President was down stairs in the oval reception room, 
and, though his health would not permit him to stand, he sat 
in his chair for two or three hours, and received his friends 
with his usual bland and dignified courtesy. By his side 
stood the lady of the mansion, dressed in full court costume, 
and doing the honors of her place with a grace and amenity 
which every one felt, and which threw a bloom over the hour. 
General Jackson retired, after a while, to his chamber, and 
the President elect remained to support his relative, and pre- 
sent to her the still thronging multitude, and by four o'clock 
the guests were gone, and the " banquet hall " was deserted. 
Not to leave a wrong impression of the cheese, I dined after- 
ward at a table to, which the President had sent a piece of it, 
and found it of excellent quality. It is like many other things, 
more agreeable in small qualities. 

Some eccentric mechanic has presented to the President a 
sulkey, made entirely (except the wheels) of rough-cut hick- 
ory, with the bark on. It looks rough enough, but has very 
much the everlasting look of old Hickory himself; and if he 
could be seen driving a high-stepping, bony old iron-gray steed 
in it, any passer by would see that there was as much fitness 
in the whole thing as in the chariot of Bacchus and his reeling 
leopards. Some curiously twisted and gnarled branches have 
been very ingeniously turned into handles and whip-box, and? 
the vehicle is compact and strong. The President has left it 
to Mr. Van Buren. 

In very strong contrast to the sulkey, stood close by, the 



318 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

elegant phaeton, made of the wood of the old frigate Consti- 
tution. It has a seat for two, with a driver's box, covered 
with a superb hammercloth, and set up rather high in front; 
the wheels and body are 1ow t , and there are bars for baggage 
behind ; altogether, for lightness and elegance, it would be a 
turn out for Long Acre. The material is excessively beauti- 
ful — a fine grained oak, polished to a very high degree, with 
its colors delicately brought out by a coat of varnish. The 
wheels are very slender and light, but strong, and, with all its 
finish, it looks a vehicle capable of a great deal of service. A 
portrait of the Constitution, under full sail, is painted on the 
panels. 



THE INAUGURATION. 



While the votes for president were being counted in th«> 
senate, Mr. Clay remarked to Mr. Van Buren with courteous 
significance : — 

11 It is a cloudy day, sir !" 

" The sun will shine on the fourth of March !" was the con- 
fident reply. 

True to his augury, the sun shone out of heaven without a 
cloud on the inaugural morning. The air was cold, but clear 
and life-giving; and the broad avenues of Washington for 
once seemed not too large for the thronging population. The 
crowds who had been pouring in from every direction for sev- 
eral days before, ransacking the town for but a shelter from 
[319] 



320 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



:.he night, were apparent on the spacious sidewalks; and the 
old campaigners of the winter seemed but a thin sprinkling 
among the thousands of new and strange faces. The sun 
shone alike on the friends and opponents of the new Adminis- 
tration, and, as far as one might observe in a walk to the cap- 
itol, all were made cheerful alike by its brightness. It was 
another augury, perhaps, and may foretell a more extended 
fusion under the light of the luminary new risen. In a whole 
day passed in a crowd composed of all classes and parties, I 
heard no remark that the president would have been unwilling 
to hear. 

I was at the capitol a half hour before the procession 
arrived, and had leisure to study a scene for which I was not 
at all prepared. The noble staircase of the east front of the 
building leaps over three arches, under one of which carriages 
pass to the basement-door; and, as you approach from the 
gate, the eye cuts the ascent at right angles, and the sky, bro- 
ken by a small spire at a short distance, is visible beneath. 
Broad stairs occur at equal distances, with corresponding pro- 
jections ; and from the upper platform rise the outer columns 
of the portico, with ranges of columns three deep extending 
pack to the pilasters. I had often admired this front with its 
many graceful columns, and its superb flight of stairs, as one 
of the finest things I had seen in the world. Like the effect of 
the assembled population of Rome waiting to receive the bless- 
ing before the font of St. Peter's, however, the assembled 
crowd on the steps and at the base of the capitol heightened 
inconceivably the grandeur of the design. They were piled 
up like the people on the temples of Babylon, in one of Mar- 
tin's sublime pictures — every projection covered, and an inex- 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 30 j 



pressible soul and character given by their presence to the 
architecture. Bcrs climbed about the base of the columns, 
single figures stood on the posts of the surrounding railings in 
the boldest relief against the sky ; and the whole thing was 
exactly what Paul Veronese would have delighted to draw. I 
stood n%ar an accomplished artist who is commissioned to fill 
one of the panels of the rotunda, and- I can not but hope he 
may have chosen this magnificent scene for his subject. 

The republican procession, consisting of the Presidents and 
their families, escorted by a small volunteer corps, arrived soon 
after twelve. The General and Mr. Van Buren were in the 
11 constitution phaeton," drawn by four grays, and as it entered 
the gate, they both rode uncovered. Descending from the 
carriage at the foot of the steps, a passage was made for them 
through the dense crowd, and the tall white head of the old 
Chieftain, still uncovered, went steadily up through the agita- 
ted mass, marked by its peculiarity from all around it. 

I was in the crowd thronging the opposite side of the 
court, and lost sight of the principal actors in this imposing 
drama, till they returned from the Senate Chamber. A tern 
porary platform had been laid, and railed in on the broad stair 
which supports the portico, and, for all preparation to one of 
the most important and most meaning and solemn ceremonies 
on earth — for the inaguration of a chief magistrate over a re- 
public of fifteen millions of freemen — the whole addition to the 
open air, and the presence of the people, was a volume of holy 
writ. In comparing the impressive simplicity of this consum- 
mation of the wishes of a mighty people, with the tricked-out 
ceremonial, and hollow show, which embarrass a corresponding 

^vent in other lands, it was impossible not to feel that the 
14* 



322 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

moral sublime was here — that a transaction so important, and 

of such extended and weighty import, could borrow nothing 

from drapery or decoration, and that the simple presence of 

the sacred volume, consecrating the act, spoke more thrill ingly 

to the heart than the trumpets of a thousand heralds. 

I 
The crowd of diplomatists and senators in the rear of the 

columns made way, and the Ex-President and Mr. Van Buren 
advanced with uncovered heads. A murmur of feeling rose 
up from the moving mass below, and the infirm old man, 
emerged from a sick-chamber, which his physician had thought 
it impossible he should leave, bowed to the people, and, still 
uncovered in the cold air, took his seat beneath the portico. 
Mr. Van Buren then advanced, and with a voice remarkably 
distinct, and with great dignity, read his address to the people. 
The air was elastic, and the day still ; and it is supposed that 
near twenty thousand persons heard him from his elevated 
position distinctly. I stood myself on the outer limit of the 
crowd, and though I lost occasionally a sentence from the in- 
terruption near by, his words came clearly articulated to my 
ear. 

When the address was closed, the chief justice advanced and 
administered the oath. As the book touched the lips of the 
new President, there arose a general shout, and expression of 
feeling common enough in other countries but drawn with dif- 
ficulty from an American assemblage. The sons, and the im- 
mediate friends of Mr. Van Buren, then closed about him ; 
the Ex-President, the chief justice, and others, gave him the 
hand of congratulation, and the ceremony was over. They 
descended the steps, the people gave one more shout as they 
mounted the constitution carriage together, and the procession 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 



323 



returned through the avenue, followed by the whole popula- 
tion of Washington. 

Mr. Van Buren held a levee immediately afterward, but I 
endeavored in vain to get my foot over the threshold. The 
crowd was immense. At four, the diplomatic body had an 
audience ; and in replying to the address of Don Angel Cal- 
deron, the President astonished the gold coats, by addressing 
them as the democratic corps. The representatives of the 
crowned heads of Europe stood rather uneasily under the epi- 
thet, till it was suggested that he possibly meant to say diplo- 
matic. 



WASHINGTON IN THE SESSION. 



There is a sagacity acquired by travel on the subject of 
forage and quarters, which is useful in all other cities in the 
world where one may happen to be a stranger, but which is 
as inapplicable to the emergencies of an arrival in "Washington 
as waltzing in a shipwreck. It is a capital whose peculiarities 
are as much sui generis as those of Venice ; but as those who 
have become wise by a season's experience neither remain on 
the spot to give warning, nor have recorded their experiences 
in a book, the stranger is worse off in a coach in Washington 
than in a gondola in the " city of silver streets." 

It is well known, I believe, that when the future city of 

Washington was about being laid out, there were two large 
[324J 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 337 



cure ourselves) furnished lodgings, in which you have every 
thing but board. Your dinner is sent you from a French 
cook's near by, and your servant gets your breakfast — a plan 
which gives you the advantage of dining at your own hour, 
choosing your own society, and of having covers for a friend 
or two whenever it suits your humor, and at half an hour's 
warning. There are very few of these lodgings (which com- 
bine many other advantages over a boarding-house,) but more 
of them would be a good speculation to house-owners, and I 
wish it were suggested, not only here, but in every city in 
our country. 

Aside from society, the only amusement in Washington is 
frequenting the capitol. If one has a great deal of patience, 
and nothing better to do, this is very well ; and it is very 
well at any rate till one becomes acquainted with the heads of 
the celebrated men in both the chambers, with the noble ar- 
chitecture of the building, and the routine of business. This 
done, it is time wearily spent for a spectator. The finer ora- 
tors seldom speak, or seldom speak warmly, the floor is 
oftenest occupied by prosing and very sensible gentlemen, 
whose excellent ideas enter the mind more agreeably by the 
eye than the ear, or, in other words, are better delivered by 
the newspapers, and there is a great deal of formula and eti- 
quetical sparring which is not even entertaining to the mem- 
bers, and which consumes time " consumedly." Now and 
then the senate adjourns when some one of the great orators 
has taken the floor, and you are sure of a great effort the 
next morning. If you are there in time, and can sit, like 
Atlas with a world on your back, you may enjoy a front seat 
and hear oratory, unsurpassed, in my opinion, in the world. 



328 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

The society in Washington, take it all in all, is by many 
decrees the best in the United States. One is prepared, 
though I cannot conceive why, for the contrary. We read in 
books of travels, and we are told by everybody, that the so- 
ciety here is promiscuous, rough, inelegant and even barba- 
rous. This is an untrue representation, or it has very much 
changed. 

There is no city, probably no village in America, where the 
female society is not refined, cultivated, and elegant. With 
or without regular advantages, woman attains the refinements 
and tact necessary to polite intercourse. No traveller ever 
ventured to complain of this part of American society. The 
great deficiency is that of agreeable, highly-cultivated men, 
whose pursuits have been elevated, and whose minds are pli- 
able to the grace and changing spirit of conversation. Every 
man of talents possesses these qualities naturally, and hence 
the great advantage which Washington enjoys over every 
other city in our country. None but a shallow observer, or a 
malicious book-maker, would ever sneer at the exteriors or 
talk of the ill breeding of such men as form, in great numbers, 
the agreeable society of this place — for a man of great talents 
never could be vulgar; and there is a superiority about most 
of these which raises them above the petty standard which 
regulates the outside of a coxcomb. Even compared with the 
dress and address of men of similar positions and pursuits in 
Europe, however (members of the house of commons, for ex- 
ample, or of the chamber of deputies in France,) it is positive- 
ly the fact that the senators and representative of the United 
States have a decided advantage. It is all very well for Mr. 
Hamilton, and other scribblers whose books must be spiced 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 32 9 

to go down, to ridicule a Washington soiree for English read- 
ers ; but if the observation of one who has seen assemblies of 
legislators and diplomatists in all the countries of Europe may 
be fairly placed against his and Mrs. Trollope's, I may assert, 
upon my own authority, that they will not find, out of May 
Fair in England, so well-dressed and dignified a body of men. 
I have seen as yet no specimen of the rough animal described 
by them and others as the " western member ;" and if David 
Crockett, (whom I was never so fortunate as to see) was of 
that description, the race must have died with him. It is a 
thing I have learned since I have been in Washington, to 
feel a wish that foreigners should see Congress in session. 
We are so humbugged, one way and another, by travellers' 
lies. 

1 have heard the observation once or twice from stran- 
gers since I have been here, and it struck myself on my 
first arrival, that I had never seen within the same limit be- 
fore, so many of what may be called " men of mark." You 
will scarce meet a gentleman on the sidewalk in Washington, 
who would not attract your notice, seen elsewhere, as an in- 
dividual possessing in his eye or general features a certain 
superiority. Never having seen most of the celebrated speak- 
ers of the senate, I busied myself for the first day or two in 
examining the faces that passed me in the street, in the hope 
of knowing them by the outward stamp which, we are apt to 
suppose, belongs to greatness. I gave it up at last, simply 
from the great number I met who might be (for all that fea- 
tures had to do with it) the remarkable men I sought. 

There is a very simple reason why a Congress of the United 
States should be, as they certainly are, a much more marked 



330 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

body of men than the English house of commons or lords, or 
the chamber of peers or deputies in France. I refer to the 
mere means by which, in either case, they come to their hon- 
ors. In England and France the lords and peers are legis- 
lators by hereditary right, and the members of the commons 
and deputies from the possession of extensive property or fam- 
ily influence, or some other cause, arguing, in most cases, 
no great personal talent in the individual. They are legisla- 
tors, but they are devoted very often much more heartily to 
other pursuits — hunting or farming, racing, driving, and sim- 
ilar out-of-door passions common to English gentlemen and 
lords, or the corresponding penchants of French peers and de- 
puties. It is only the few great leaders and orators who de- 
vote themselves to politics exclusively. With us every one 
knows it is quite the contrary. An American politician de- 
livers himself, body and soul, to his pursuit. He never sleeps, 
eats, walks, or dreams, but in subservience to his aim. He 
cannot afford to have another passion of any kind till he has 
reached the point of his ambition — and then it has become a 
mordent necessity from habit. The consequence is, that no 
man can be found in an elevated sphere in our country, who 
has not had occasion for more than ordinary talent to arrive 
there. He inherited nothing of his distinction, and has made 
himself. Such ordeals leave their marks, and they who have 
thought, and watched, and struggled, and contended with 
the passions of men as an American politician inevitably must, 
cannot well escape the traces of such work. It usually ele- 
vates the character of the face — it always strongly marks it. 

A-propos of " men of mark;" the dress circle of the theatre 
at Power's benefit, not long since, was graced by three In- 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 331 



dians in full costume, the chief of the Foxes, the chief of the 
Ioways, and a celebrated warrior of the latter tribe, called the 
Sioux-killer. The Fox is an old roan of apparently fifty, with 
a heavy, aquiline nose, a treacherous eye, sharp as an eagle's, 
and a person rather small in proportion to his head and fea- 
tures. He was dressed in a bright scarlet blanket, and a 
crown of feathers, with an eagle's plume, standing erect on 
the top of his head, all dyed in the same deep hue. His 
face was painted to match, except his lips, which looked of 
a most ghastly sallow, in contrast with his fiery nose, fore- 
head, and cheeks. His tomahawk lay in the hollow of his 
arm, decked with feathers of the same brilliant color with 
the rest of his drapery. Next him sat the Sioux-killer, in 
a dingy blanket, with a crown made of a great quantity of 
the feathers of a pea-hen, which fell over his face, and con- 
cealed his features almost entirely. He is very small, but is 
famous for his personal • feats, having, among other things, 
walked one hundred and thirty miles in thirty successive 
hours, and killed three Sioux (hence his name) in one battle 
with that nation. He is but twenty-three, but very compact 
and wiry-looking, and his eye glowed through his veil of hen 
feathers like a coal of fire. 

Next to the Sioux-killer sat "White Cloud," the chief of 
the Ioways. His face was the least warlike of the three, and 
expressed a good nature and freedom from guile, remarkable 
in an Indian. He is about twenty-four, has very large fea- 
tures, and a fine, erect person, with broad shoulders and 
chest. He was painted less than the Fox chief, but of nearly 
the same color, and carried, in the hollow of his arm, a small, 
glittering tomahawk, ornamented with blue feathers. His 



332 FAMOUS PERSONS AND TLACES. 



head was encircled by a kind of turban of silver-fringed cloth, 
with some metallic pendents for earrings, and his blanket, not 
particularly clean or handsome, was partly open on the breast, 
and disclosed a calico shirt, which was probably sold to him 
by a trader in the west. They were all very attentive to the 
play, but the Fox chief and White Cloud departed from the 
traditionary dignity of Indians, and laughed a great deal at 
some of Power's fun. The. Sioux-killer sat between them, 
as motionless and grim as a marble knight on a tombstone. 

The next day I had the pleasure of dining with Mr. Power, 
who lived at the same hotel with the Indian delegation ; and 
while at dinner he received a message from the Ioways, ex- 
pressing a wish to call on him. We were sitting over our 
wine when White Cloud and the Sioux-killer came in with 
their interpreter. There were several gentlemen present, one 
of them in the naval undress uniform, whose face the Sioux- 
killer scrutinized very sharply. They smiled in bowing to 
Power, but made very grave inclinations to the rest of us. 
The chief took his seat, assuming a very erect and dignified 
attitude, which he preserved immovable during the interview ; 
but the Sioux-killer drew up his legs, resting them on the 
round of the chair, and, with his head and body bent forward, 
seemed to forget himself, and give his undivided attention to 
the study of Power and his naval friend. 

Tumblers of champagne were given them, which they drank 
with great relish, though the Sioux-killer provoked a little rid- 
icule from White Cloud, by coughing as he swallowed it. The 
interpreter was a half-breed between an Indian and a negro, 
and a most intelligent fellow. He had been reared in the 
Ioway tribe, but had been among the whites a great deal for 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 333 



the Inst few years, and had picked up English very fairly. He 
told us that White Cloud was the son of old White Cloud, who 
died three years since, and that the young chief had acquired 
entire command over the tribe by his mildness and dignity. 
He had paid the debts of the Ioways to the traders, very much 
against the will of the tribe ; but he commenced by declaring 
firmly that he would be just, and had carried his point. He 
had come to Washington to receive a great deal of money from 
the sale of the lands of the tribe, and the distribution of it lay 
entirely in his own power. Only one old warrior had ventured 
to rise in council and object to his measures ; but when White 
Cloud spoke, he had dropped his head on his bosom and sub- 
mitted. This information and that which followed was given 
in English, of which neither of the Ioways understood a word. 

Mr. Power expressed a surprise that the Sioux-killer should 
have known him in his citizen's dress. The interpreter trans- 
lated it, and the Indian said in answer : — 

" The dress is very different, but when I see a man's eye 1 
know him again." 

He then told Power that he wished, in the theatre, to raise 
his war-cry and help him fight the three bad-looking men who 
were his enemies (referring to the three bailiffs in the scene in 
Paddy Carey.) Power asked what part of the play he liked 
best, lie said that part where he seized the girl in his arms 
and ran off the stage with her (at the close of an Irish jig in 
the same play). 

The interpreter informed us that this was the first time the 
Sioux-killer had come among the whites, lie had disliked 
them always till now, but he said he had seen enough to keep 
him telling tales all the rest of his life. Power offered them 



334 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



cigars, which they refused. We expressed our surprise ; and 
the Sioux-kiiler said that the Indians who smoked gave out 
soonest in the chase ; and White Cloud added, very gravely, 
that the young women of his tribe did not like the breaths of 
the smokers. In answer to an enquiry I made about the com- 
parative size of Indians and white men, the chief said that the 
old men of the whites were larger than old Indians, but the 
young whites were not so tall and straight as the youths of his 
tribe. We were struck with the smallness of the chief's hands 
and feet ; but he seemed very much mortified when the inter- 
preter translated our remark to him. He turned the little sal- 
low fingers over and over, and said that old White Cloud, his 
father, who had been a great warrior, had small hands like his. 
The young chief, we were told by the interpreter, has never 
yet been in an engagement, and is always spared from the 
heavier fatigues undergone by the rest of the tribe. 

They showed great good nature in allowing us to look at 
their ornaments, tomahawks, &c. White Cloud wore a collar 
of bear's claws, which marked him for a chief; and the Sioux 
killer carried a great cluster of brass bells on the end of his 
tomahawk, of which he explained the use very energetically. It 
was to shake when he stood over his fallen enemy in the fight, 
to let the tribe know he had killed him. After another 
tumbler of champagne each, they rose to take their leave, and 
White Cloud gave us his hand, gently, with a friendly nod. 
We were all amused, however, with the Sioux-killer's more 
characteristic adieu. He looked us in the eye like a hawk, 
and gave us each a grip of his iron fist, that made the blood 
tingle under our nails. He would be an awkward customer 
in a fight, or his fixed lips and keen eye very much belie him. 



WASHINGTON AFTEE THE SESSION. 



The leaf that is lodged in some sunny dell, after drifting on 
the whirlwind — the Indian's canoe, after it has shot the rapids 
— the drop of water that has struggled out from the phlegethon 
of Niagara, and sleeps on the tranquil bosom of Ontario — 
are faint images of contrast and repose, compared with a 
Washingtonian after the session. I have read somewhere, in 
an oriental tale, that a lover, having agreed to share his life 
with his dying mistress, took her place in the grave six months 
in the year. In Bagdad it might have been a sacrifice. In 
Washington I could conceive such an arrangement to make 
very little difference. 

Nothing is done leisurely in our country ; and, by the haste 
[335] 



336 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



with which everybody rushes to the rail-road the morning 
after the rising of Congress, you would fancy that the cars, 
like Cinderella's coach would be changed into pumpkins at the 
stroke of twelve. The town was evacuated in a day. On 
the fifth of March a placard was sent back by the inn-keepers 
at Baltimore, declaring that there was not so much as a gar- 
ret to be had in that city, and imploring gentlemen and ladies 
to remain quietly at Washington for twenty-four hours. The 
railroad engine twice a day, tugged and puffed away through 
the hills, drawing after it, on its sinuous course, a train of 
brick colored cars, that resembled the fabulous red dragon 
trailing its slimy length through the valley of Crete. The 
gentleman who sit by the fire in the bar-room at Gadsby's, 
like Theodore Hook's secretary, who could hear Ins master 
write " Yours faithfully" in the next room, learned to distin- 
guish " Eeceived payment," from a Sundries," by listening to 
the ceaseless scratch of the book-keeper. The ticket office at 
the depot w T as a scene of struggle and confusion between 
those who wanted places ; while, looking their last on these 
vanishing paymasters, stood hundreds of tatterdemalions, 
white, yellow, and black, with their hands in their pockets, and 
(if .sincere regret at their departure could have wrung it forth) 
a tear in their eye. The bell rang, and the six hundred de- 
partures flocked to their places — young ladies, with long faces, 
leaving the delights of Washington for the dull repose of the 
country — their lovers, with longer faces, trying, in vain, to 
solve the X quantity expressed by the aforesaid " Sundries" 
in their bill — and members of congress with long faces, too — 
for not one in twenty has " made the impression" he expected; 
and he is moralizing on the decline of the taste for eloquence, 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 337 

and on the want of " golden opportunity" for the display of 
indignant virtue ! 

Nothing but an army, or such a concourse of people as col- 
lects to witness an inauguration, could ever make Washington 
look populous. But when Congress, and its train often thou- 
sand casual visiters are gone, and only the official and indige- 
nous inhabitants remain, Balbec, or Palmyra, with a dozen 
Arabs scattered among its ruins, has less a look of desolation. 
The few stragglers in the streets add to its loneliness — pro- 
ducing exactly the effect sometimes given to a woodland soli- 
tude by the presence of a single bird. The vast streets seem 
grown vaster and more disproportionate — the houses seem 
straggling to greater distances — the walk from the President's 
house to the capitol seems twice as long — and new faces are 
seen here and there, at the doors and windows — for cooks and 
inn-keepers that had never time to lounge, lounge now, and 
their families take quiet possession of the unrented front par- 
lor. He who would be reminded of his departed friends 
should walk down on the avenue. The carpet, associated 
with so many pleasant recollections — which has been pressed 
by the dainty feet of wits and beauties — to tread on which 
was a privilege and a delight — is displayed on a heap of old 
furniture, and while its sacred defects are rudely scanned by 
the curious, is knocked down, with all its memories, under the 
hammer of the auctioneer. Tables, chairs, ottomans — all 
linked with the same glowing recollections — go — for most 
unworthy prices ; and while, humiliated with the sight, you 
wonder at the artificial value given to things by their posses- 
sors, you begin to wonder whether your friends themselves, 
subjected to the same searching valuation, would not be de- 
15 



338 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



predated too ! Ten to one, if their characters were displayed 
like their carpets, there would come to light defects as un- 
suspected ! 

The person to whom this desolation is the " unkindest cut" 
is the hackney-coachman. " His vocation " is emphatically 
gone ! Gone is the dollar made every successive half hour ! 
Gone is the pleasant sum in compound addition, done " in the 
head," while waiting at the doors of the public offices ! Gone 
are the short, but profitable trips to the theatre ! Gone the 
four or five families, all taken the same evening to parties, and 
each paying the item of " carriage from nine till twelve !" 
Gone the absorbed politician, who would rather give the five- 
dollar bill than wait for his change ! the lady who sends 
the driver to be paid at " the bar;" the uplifted fingers, hither 
and thither, which embarrass his choice of a fare — gone, all ! 
The chop-fallen coachy drives to the stand in the morning and 
drives home at noon ; he creeps up to Fuller's at a snail-pace, 
and, in very mockery of hope, asks the homeward-bound clerk 
from the department if he wants a coach ! Night comes on, 
and his horses begin to believe in the millenium — and the cob- 
webs are wove over his whip-socket. 

These changes, however, affect not unpleasantly the diplo- 
matic and official colony extending westward from the presi- 
dent's. The inhabitants of this thin sprinkled settlement are 
away from the great thoroughfare, and do not miss its crowds. 
The cessation of parties is to them a relief from night journeys, 
colds, card-leavings, and much wear and tear of carriage- 
horses. They live now in dressing-gowns and slippers, read 
the reviews and the French papers, get their dinners comfort- 
ably from the restaurateurs, and thank Heaven that the capitol 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 339 



is locked up. The attaches grow fat, and the despatches grow 
thin. 

There are several reasons why Washington, till the month 
of May, spite of all the drawbacks in the picture delineated 
above, is a more agreeable residence than the northern cities. 
In the first place, its climate is at least a month earlier than 
that of New York, and, in the spring, is delightful. The 
trees are at this moment (the last week in March) bursting 
into buds ; open carriages are everywhere in use ; walking in 
the sun is oppressive ; and for the last fortnight, this has been 
a fair chronicle of the weather. Boston and New York have 
been corroded with east winds, meantime, and even so near as 
Baltimore, they are still wrapped in cloaks and shawls. To 
those who, in reckoning the comforts of life, agree with me in 
making climate stand for nine-tenths, this is powerful attrac- 
tion. 

Then the country about Washington, the drives and rides, 
are among the most lovely in the world. The banks of Bock 
creek are a little wilderness of beauty. More bright waters, 
more secluded bridle-paths, more sunny and sheltered hill- 
sides, or finer mingling of rock, hill, and valley, I never rode 
among. Within a half-hour's gallop, you have a sylvan retreat 
of every variety of beauty, and in almost any direction ; and 
from this you come home (and this is not the case with most 
sylvan rides) to an excellent French dinner and agreeable 
society, if you like it. You have all the seclusion of a rural 
town, and none of its petty politics and scandal — all the means 
and appliances of a large metropolis, and none of its exactions 
and limitations. That which makes the charm of a city, and 



340 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

that for which we seek the country, are equally here, and the 
penalties of both are removed. 

Until the reflux of population from the Eocky mountains, I 
suppose Washington will never be a metropolis of residence. 
But if it were an object with the inhabitants to make it more 
so, the advantages I have just enumerated, and a little outlay 
of capital and enterprise would certainly, in some degree, 
effect it. People especially who come from Europe, or have 
been accustomed to foreign modes of living, would be glad to 
live near a society composed of such attractive materials as 
the official and diplomatic persons at the seat of government. 
That which keeps them away is, principally, want of accom- 
modation, and, in a less degree, it is want of comfortable ac- 
commodation in the other cities which drives them back to 
Europe. In Washington you must either live at an hotel or a 
boarding-house. In either case, the mode of life is only en- 
durable for the shortest possible period, and the moment Con- 
gress rises, every sufferer in these detestable places is off for 
relief. The hotels are crowded to suffocation ; there is an 
utter want of privacy in the arrangement of the suites of 
apartments; the service is ill ordered, and the prices out of all 
sense or reason. You pay for that which you have not, and 
you can not get by paying for it that which you want. 

The boarding house system is worse yet. To possess but 
one room in privacy, and that opening on a common passage ; 
to be obliged to come to meals at certain hours, with chance 
table companions, and no place for a friend, and to live entirely 
in your bedroom or in a public parlor, may truly be called as 
abominable a routine as a gentleman could well suffer. Yet 



TALKS OVER TRAVEL. 34 j 



the great majority of those who come to Washington are in 
one or the other of these two categories. 

The use of lodgings for strangers or transient residents in 
the city does not, after all the descriptions in books, seem at all 
understood in our country. This is w T hat Washington wants, 
but it is what every city in the country wants generally. Let 
us describe it as if it was never before heard of, and perhaps 
some enlightened speculator may advance us half a century in 
some of the cities, by creating this luxury. 

Lodgings of the ordinary kind in Europe generally consist 
of the apartments on one floor. The house, we will suppose, 
consists of three stories above the basement, and each floor 
contains a parlor, bedroom, and dressing-room, with a small 
antechamber. (This arrangement of rooms varies, of course, 
and a larger family occupies two floors.) These three suites 
of apartments are neatly furnished; bed-clothes, table-linen, 
and plate, if required, are found by the proprietor, and in the 
basement story usually lives a man and his wife, who attend to 
the service of the lodgers; i. e., bring water, answer the door- 
bell, take in letters, keep the rooms in order, make the fires, 
and, if it is wished, do any little cookery in case of sickness. 
These people are paid by the proprietor, but receive a fee for 
extra service, and a small gratuity, at departure, from the 
lodger. It should be added to this, that it is not infra, dig. 
to live in the second or third story. 

In connexion with lodgings, there must be of course a cook 
pr restaurateur within a quarter of a mile. The stranger 
agrees with him for his dinner, to consist of so many dishes, 
and to be sent to him at a certain hour. He gives notice in 
the morning if he dines out, buys his own wine of the wine- 



342 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

merchant, and thus saves two heavy items of overcharge in the 
hotel or boarcling-house. His own servant makes his tea or 
coffee (and for this purpose has access to the fire in the base- 
ment,) and does all personal service, such as brushing clothes, 
waiting at table, going on errands, &c, &c. The stranger 
comes in, in short, at a moment's warning, brings nothing but 
his servant and baggage, and finds himself in five minutes at 
home, his apartments private, and every comfort and conve- 
nience as completely about him as if he had lived there for 
years. 

At from ten to fourteen dollars a week, such apartments 
would pay the proprietor handsomely, and afford a reasonable 
luxury to the lodger. A cook would make a good thing of 
sending in a plain dinner for a dollar a head (or more if the 
dinner were more expensive,) and at this rate, a family of two 
or more persons might have a hundred times the comfort now 
enjoyed at hotels, at certainly half the cost. 

We have been seduced into a very unsentimental chapter of 
" ways and means," but we trust the suggestions, though con- 
taining nothing new, may not be altogether without use. The 
want of some such thing as we have recommended is daily 
and hourly felt and complained of. 



ARTICLES FROM THE JOURNAL, 

OF WHICH THE AUTHOR WAS EDITOR, 

PUBLISHED IN NEW YORK. 



LETTERS FROM ENGLAND AND THE 
CONTINENT IN 1845-'46. 



LETTER I. 

"What the writer has seen of this world for twenty-four 
days. — The passengers of the Brittania. — The differ- 
ence between the American and English Custom-house 
officers. — The working classes. — Female dress. — Bus- 
tles. — Writing against the doctor's orders, etc. 

My Dear Morris. — All I have seen of England for the last 
twelve days, has been the four walls of a bed room, and, as 
all I saw of the world for the twelve days previous, was the 
interior of a packet's state-room, I may fairly claim, like the 
razor-grinder, to have " no story to tell." You shall have, 
however, what cobwebs I picked from the corners. 

If the ' Brittannia' had burnt on the passage, and a phoenix 
had arisen from its ashes, the phoenix would have been a well 
14 [345] 



346 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



compounded cosmopolite, for — did you ever see such variety of 
nation in one ship's company as this ? 



From England, 


16 


From Mexico, 


1 


Scotland, 


6 


West Indies, 


2 


Ireland, 


3 


East Indies, 


3 


Wales, 


1 


British Guiana, 


1 


Canada, 


2 


Guatimala, 


2 


United States, 


12 


Denmark, 


1 


France, 


4 


Poland, 


1 


Spain, 


1 


Germany, 


9 



Of the Germans, 2 were from Hanover, 2 from Hamburgh, 
1 from Baden, 1 from Lubec, 2 from Bremen, and 1 from 
Heinault. Mr. Robert Owen was one of the Scotchmen, and 
he was the only one on board, I fancy, for whom fame had 
made any great outlay of trumpeting. Six clergymen (! !) 
served as our protection against the icebergs. I doubt whe- 
ther the Atlantic, had, ever before such a broadwake of divin- 
ity drawn across it. Probably, the true faith was in some one 
of their keepings ! 

I wish to ask a personal favor of all the friends of the 
Journal who are in the offices of the American Custom Houses, 
viz : that they would retaliate upon Englishmen in the most 
vexatious manner possible, the silly and useless impediments 
thrown in the way of passengers landing at Liverpool. We 
dropped anchor with a Custom House steamer alongside, and 
our baggage lay on deck two hours, (time enough to be ex- 
amined twice over) before it was transferred to the government 
vessel. We and our baggage were then taken ashore and 
landed at a Custom House. But not to be examined there ! 
Oh, no ! It must be put into carts, and carried a mile and a 
half to another Custom House, and there it would be delivered 
to us if we were there to see it examined ! We 1 anded at ten 



LETTER I. 



347 



o'clock in the morning, and with my utmost exertions, I did 
not get my baggage till three. The cost to me, of porterage, 
fees, etc., was three dollars and a half, besides the theft of 
two or three small articles belonging to my child. I was too 
ill to laugh, and I therefore passed the matter over to my 
resentments. 

During the four or five hours that I was playing the 
hanger-on to a vulgar and saucy custom house officer at Liver- 
pool, one or two contrasts crept in at my dull eyes — contrasts 
between what I had left, and what was before me. The most 
striking was the utter want of hope in the countenances of the 
working classes — the look of dogged submission and animal 
endurance of their condition of life. They act like horses and 
cows. A showy equipage goes by, and they have not the 
curiosity to look up. Their gait is that of tired donkeys, sav- 
ing as much trouble at leg lifting as possible. Their mouths 
and eyes are wholly sensual, expressing no capability of a 
want above food. Their dress is without a thought of more 
than warmth and covering, drab covered with dirt. Their 
voices are a half-note above a grunt. Indeed, comparing their 
condition with the horse, I would prefer being an English 
horse to being an English working-man. And you will easily 
see the very strong contrast there is, between this picture, and 
that of the ambitious and lively working-men of our country. 

Another contrast strikes, probably, all Americans on first 
landing — that of female dress. The entire absence of the 
ornamental — of any thing indeed, except decent covering — in 
all classes below the wealthy, is particularly English and par- 
ticularly un-American. 1 do not believe you would find ten 
female servants in New-York without (pardon my naming it) 



348 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



a "bustle." Yet I saw as many as two hundred women in 
the streets of Liverpool, and not one with a bustle ! I saw 
some ladies get out of carriages who wore them, so that it is 
not because it is not the fashion, but simply because the pride 
(of those whose backs form but one line) does not outweigh 
the price of the bran. They wore thick shoes, such as scarcely 
a man would wear with us, no gloves of course, and their 
whole appearance was that of females in whose minds never 
entered the thought of ornament on week days. This trifling 
exponent of the condition of women in England, has a large 
field of speculation within and around it, and the result of 
philosophizing on it would be vastly in favor of our side of 
the water. 

As this letter is written on my first day of sitting up, and 
directly against the doctor's orders, you will give my invalid 
brain the credit of coming cheerfully into harness. 



LETTER II. 



Having some delay in giving my little Imogen her first 
English dinner, we saved our passage by half a minute, and 
were off from Liverpool at 4 precisely. The distance to 
London is, I believe, 220 miles, and we did it in five hours — 
an acceleration of speed which is lately introduced upon the 
English railways. There are slower trains on the same route, 
and the price, by these, is less. There are also three or four 
different kinds of cars to each train, and at different prices. I 
chanced to light upon the first class, and paid £5 for two 
places — my nurse and child counting as one. I understand, 
since, that many gentlemen and ladies of the most respectable 
rank take the second-class cars — (as few Americans would, I 
[349] 



350 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



am sorry to say, though there would be two degrees still 
below them.) 

This travelling at forty odd miles the hour give one's eyes 
hardly time to know a tree from a cow, but here and there I 
got a distant view in crossing a valley, and recognized the 
lovely rural beauty of England, the first impression of which 
lasts one, like an enchanted memory, through life. Notwith- 
standing the great speed, the cars ran so evenly on their 
admirable rails, that there was no jar to prevent one's sleeping 
or being comfortable, and I awoke from a very pleasant dream 
to find myself in London. 

As I was dressing to dine out on the following day, I 
stopped tying my cravat to send for a physician, and here, if 
you please, we will make a jump over twelve days, and come 
to a bright morning when I was let out for a walk in Regent- 
street. 

It is extraordinary how little the English change ! Regent- 
street, after four or five years, is exactly what Regent-street 
was. The men have the same tight cravats, coats too small, 
overbrushed whiskers, and look of being excessively wash'd. 
The carriages and horses exactly the same. The cheap shops 
have the same placard of " selling off " in their broad win- 
dows. The blind beggars tell the same story, and are led by 
the same dogs ; but what is stranger than all this sameness, is 
that the ladies look the same ! The fashions have perhaps 
changed — in the milliners' shops ! But the Englishing that is 
done to Erench bonnets after they are bought, or the English 
way in which they are worn, overpowers the novelty, and gives 



LETTER II. 35 ! 



the fair occupants of the splendid carriages of London the 
very same look they had ten years ago. 

Still there are some slight differences observable in the 
street, and among others, I observe that the economical private 
carriage called a " Brougham " is very common. These are 
low cabs, holding two or four persons, with a driver, and per- 
haps a footman in livery on the outside seat, and one horse 
seems to do the work as well as two. This fashion would be 
well, introduced into New York — that is to say, if our city is 
ever to be well enough paved to make a drive any thing but 
a dire necessity. The paving of London is really most admir- 
able. Vast city as it is, the streets are smnoth as a floor all 
over it, and to ride is indeed a luxury. The break-neck, hat- 
jamming and dislocating jolts of Broadway must seem to 
English judgment an inexcusable stain on our pubkc spirit. 
And, apropos of paving — the wooden pavement seems to be 
entirely out of favor. Begent-street is laid in wooden blocks, 
and in wet weather (and it rains here some part of every day,) 
it is so slippery that an omnibus which has been stopped in 
going up the street is with difficulty started again. The horses 
almost always come to their knees, though the ascent is very 
slight, and the falls of cart and carriage-horses are occurring 
continually. Nothing seems to " do " like the McAdam pave- 
ment, and wherever you find it in London, you find it in as 
perfect order as the floor of a bowling-alley. I see that all 
heavy vehicles are compelled to have very broad wheels, and 
they rather improve the road than spoil it. A law to the same 
effect should be passed in New York, if it ever has a pave- 
ment worth preserving. 

Observing Lady Blessington's faultless equipage standing at 



352 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



the door of the Cosmorama, I went in and saw her Ladyship 
for a moment. She said she was suffering from recent illness, 
but I thought her looking far better than when I was last in 
England. Her two beautiful nieces were with her, and Lord 

; and the celebrated Vidocq (for this was what they 

had come to see,) was showing them the disguises he had 
worn in his wonderful detections of criminals, the weapons he 
had taken from them, and all the curiosities of his career — 
himself the greatest. I looked at the Prince of Policemen 
with no little interest of course, after reading his singular 
memoirs. He is a fat man, very like the outline of Louis 
Phillippe's figure, and his head, enormously developed in the 
perceptive organs, goes up so small to the top, as to resemble 
the pear with which the King of the French is commonly car- 
icatured. Vidocq's bow to me when I came in was the model 
of elegant and respectful suavity, but I could not repress a 
feeling of repugnance to him, nevertheless. 

I made a couple of calls before I went home. The chief 
topic of conversation at both houses was the charms and eccen- 
tricities of an American belle who had lately married into a 
noble family. She seems to have enchanted the exclusives by 
treating them with the most un-deferential freedom. A few 
evenings since, she chanced to be surrounded by a half dozen 
high bred admirers, and conversation going rather heavily, she 
proposed a cock-fight. Dividing the party into two sides, she 
tied the legs of the young men together, and set them to a 
game of fisticuffs — ending in a very fair representation of an 
action between belligerent roosters ! One Of her expressions 
was narrated with great glee. She chanced to have occasion 
to sneeze when sitting at dinner between two venerable noble- 



LETTER, II. 353 



men. " La !" she exclaimed, " I hope I didn't splash either of 
you !" I have mentioned only the drolleries of what I heard. 
Several instances of her readiness and wit were given, and as 
those who mentioned them were of the class she is shining in, 
their admiring tone gave a fair reflection of how she is looked 
upon — as the most celebrated belle and notability of high life 
for the present season. 



LETTER III 



Vicarage. 



I took yesterday an afternoon's country-drive to a neigh- 
boring town, with no idea of finding anything of note-worthy 
interest, but it strikes me that one or two little matters that 
made a mark in my memory, may be worth recording. Eng- 
land is so paved and hedged with matter to think about, that 
you can scarce stir without pencilling by the way. 

I strolled towards a very picturesque church while the 
ladies of my party were shopping. The town (Abingdon) is 
a tumbled-up, elbowy, crooked old place, with the houses all 
frowning at each other across the gutters, and the streets nar- 
rowand intricate. The church was a rough antique, with 
the mendings of a century or two on the originally beautiful 
[3541 



LETTER III. 



355 



turrets and windows, but as I walked around it, I came upon 
the church-yard, hemmed in at awkward angles by three long 
and venerable buildings. Two of these seemed to have been 
built with proper reference to the climate, for the lower sto- 
ries were faced with covered galleries, wherein the occupants 
might take the air, and yet be sheltered from the rain. 
Through the low arches of one of the galleries, I saw a couple 
of old men pacing up and down, and on inquiring of one of 
them, I found it was a poor-house, of curious as w T ell as an- 
cient endowment — the funds being devoted to the support of 
twenty-five widowers and as many widows. What else, (be- 
side being left destitute) was necessary to make one a reci- 
pient of the charity, I could not learn of my informant. He 
ushered me, however, into his apartment, and a charming 
little rubbishy, odd-angled, confused cupboard it was ! I 
could not but mentally congratulate him on the difference be- 
tween his snuggery for one, (for each man had a niche to him- 
self.) and the dreadfully whitewashed halls, like new churches 
that have never been prayed in, in which the poor are else- 
where imprisoned. He had old shoes lying in one corner, 
and a smoked print stuck against the wall, and things hung 
up and stuffed away untidily, here and there — in short, it 
looked like a home ! The whole building was but a row of 
these single rooms — a long, one-storied and narrow structure, 
and behind was a garden with a portion divided off to each 
pensioner — his window so near that he could sit in-doors and 
inhale the fragrance from flowers of his own tending. I ra- 
ther think every man was his own turnkey and superinten- 
dent. 

But we visited in the course of the afternoon, a poor-house 



356 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

which was in direct contrast to this. Abingdon is distin- 
guished for possessing the model work-house of the new Union 
System, which has diminished the burthensome cost of the 
poor, to the country, one half. It used to be customary to 
give the helpless paupers two shillings a week, and let them 
shift for themselves, if they preferred it. Now, the poor of 
half a dozen villages, more or less, are provided for in one 
"improved " work-house, and if they do not live in it, they 
can receive nothing. And, to live in it, they must work and 
submit to the discipline. 

The new work house was a building of three long wings, in 
the form of a Y ; the superintendent's room placed in the 
crotch, and his windows commanding a complete view of the 
two sides of each wing. The gardens and workshops were in 
the angles, and there was scarce an inch of the premises that 
was not overlooked from the centre. We were kindly shown 
over the different apartments. The cleanliness was enough to 
discourage a fly. A smell of soap-and-water's utmost com- 
pletely impregnated the atmosphere. The grain of the 
scrubbed tables stood on end. The little straight beds looked 
as if it must be a bold man who would crook his legs in them. 
The windows were too high for a child or a short person to 
look out. It was like an insane hospital or a prison. In one 
of the first rooms we entered, was a delicate and pretty child 
of seven or eight years of age, a new inmate. Her mother, 
who was her only relative, had just died in a neighboring vil- 
lage, and left her quite alone in the world. She was shut up 
in a room with an old woman, for by the " regulations," she 
was to be separated some days from the other children, to 
make sure that she brought no disease into the work-house. 



LETTER III. 



357 



But the sight of the poor little sobbing thing, sitting on the 
middle of a long clean bench, with no object to look at within 
the four white walls, except a table and a soured old woman, 
looked very little like " charity." And the hopeless down-hill 
of her sob sounded as if she felt but little like one newly be- 
friended. " She's done nothing but cry all the day long !" 
said the old woman. Fortunately I had a pocket full of 
sweets, intended for a happier child, and I was able to make 
one break in her long day's monotony. 

In another room we found ten or twelve old women, who 
were too decrepid for work of any kind. But they had laps 
left /* And in each one's lap lay a baby. The old knees 
were trotting with the new-born of pauper mothers, and but 
for its dreadful uniformity — each old trunk grafted with a bud, 
and trunks and buds dressed and sw 7 athed in the poor-house 
uniform — this room full of life's helpless extremities would 
have seemed the happiest of all. They cuddled up their dru- 
ling charges as we approached the benches on which they sat, 
and chirruped their toothless " tsup ! tsup ! tsup !" as if each 
was proud of her charge. One of the old women complained 
bitterly of not being allowed to have a pinch of snuff. The 
reason why, was because the others would want it too, or de- 
mand an equivalent, paupers being cared for by system. The 
unhappy and improvident creature had educated a superfluous 
want ! 

The sick rooms were marked with the same painful naked 
neatness. Old people, disposed of to die, economically tucked 
up in rows against the wall, with no person to come near them 

* Bloomers please take notice. r 



358 FAMOUS PERSONS AND FLACES. 



except the one to nurse a dozen, form a dreadful series. Really, 
there should be some things sacred from classification. The 
fifth acts of dramas, like whole human lives, should not 
pass like the shelving of utensils that are one degree short of 
worthless. I stood looking for a minute or two at an old man 
whose only reply to " well, how are you now ?" was a hopeless 
lifting and dropping of the eyelids, and I wondered whether 
a life was worth having, that had such possible terminations 
in its dark lottery. 

The children's school seemed under more genial charge, and 
there were prints hung upon the walls of their school-room. 
The weaving and spinning-rooms looked cheerful also. Some 
thirty boys singing hymns together while at work, and seem- 
ing contentedly employed. To the old of both sexes, 
however, this kind of poor-house is utterly repulsive, I 
was told, and the taking refuge in it is considered by the poor 
hardly better than starvation. One of the rules seems to bear 
very hard — married paupers (an old couple for instance,) being 
put into different wards, and only permitted to see each other 
once a week, and then in the presence of superintendents. 

The flower-beds at the front door were in great splendor 
with the lillies in bloom. I called the door keeper's attention 
to the inappropriateness of this particular ornament to the 
threshold of a work-house. " They toil not, neither do they 
spin," etc., etc., etc. 



LETTER IV 



An excursion of fifty miles and back " to pass the day" at a 
place — setting off after breakfast, and getting home " before 
tea" — used to be done on a witch's broom exclusively. People 
who are neither bewitched nor bewitching can do it now ! 
Railroads have disenchanted the world. The secluded Vicar- 
age of S , is half way from London to Bath, in a village 

lying upon the route of the Great Western Railroad. I had 
never seen the Saratoga of England, and, chatting with my 
kind relatives, over the things that were to be seen in the 
neighborhood, I was rather startled to hear of the possibility 
of" passing the day at Bath." Beau Nash and the Pump- 
room, rose up, of course, vividly and instantly. The scene of 
the loves and gayeties of the gayest age of England, was close 
359 



360 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



at my elbow — near enough, at least, to visit without a carpet- 
bag. The opportunity was not to be lost. 

By the " Express" train we might " do" the fifty miles in an 
hour, but we preferred the slow train to do it in tivo. We in- 
carcerated ourselves, at 10 o'clock of the first fair day I have 
seen in a month, and were presently getting, {very literally in- 
deed,) a bird's eye view of the carpet-like scenery of Berk- 
shire. 

At the second or third station, we took in, for passengers, 
four idiots, under the care of an hospital-keeper. When taken 
out of the carriage in which they were brought, two of them 
collapsed to the ground, not having mind enough to stand on 
their legs, though apparently in perfect health. One minute 
thus and the next minute going at the rate of thirty miles an 
hour, is a contrast ! 

At Swindon, the junction between the Gloucester Railway 
and this, the station buildings are really unnecessarily splendid. 
The reception room, with its immense mirrors, volvet sofas, 
bronzes and waiting women in full dress, is as sumptuous as a 
royal palace. The windows are as large as doors, and of one pane 
of pier-glass. The room itself is as large and high as the gen- 
tlemen's diningroom at the Astor, and yet a room exactly corres- 
ponding is on the other side of the track — one to accommo- 
date the " up train," and the other the " down train." The 
rustic inhabitants of the little village of Sw T indon must live in sur- 
prise at the magnificent wants of travellers — the curls and 
chemisettes of the waiting-girls behind the counter included ! 

At the little village of u Box," (a snug name for a village, 
by the bye) commences the two mile tunnel under the chalk 
hills, and so suddenly do the cars dive into the darkness, that 



LETTER IV. 361 



one's eyes are at a loss to know what to do with the light left 
in the eyeballs. If a man ever threatens to " knock the day- 
light out of me" again, I shall have a glimmer of its having 
been done before — (at Box.) But I predict an awful smash 
in this tunnel, yet. Chalk and flint-stones are very friable neigh- 
bors, and hills are heavy, and the concussion of air, with a train 
going under ground at the rate of a mile a minute, is enough 
to sift away particles very speedily. A train might come out with 
a load of stone it never went in with, and there is gloomy time 
enough to anticipate it, while one is whizzing and thundering 
onwards toward the black dark of the Box tunnel. 

The villages thicker, and the hills grow steeper as we ap- 
proach Bath, and at last you are suddenly shot into a bowl 
of palaces and verdure — the bottom covered with gardens, and 
the sides with terraced crescents of architecture. I had just 
time to exclaim with wonder at the unexpected splendor of 
the hill sides rounding us in, when the station roof slid over us 
like an extinguisher, and the conductor's voice announced that 
we were at Bath. 

16 



LETTER V 



Boys by dozens, offering to be our guides, and six or seven 
rival omnibusses begging us for the hotels. 

Leaving cloak and shawl, and ordering dinner at three, at 
the hotel adjoining the station, we sallied forth to ramble the 
town over, with three good hours before us — the return cars 
leaving at four. As I just now said, the bottom of this vase 
of hills is laid out in gardens, and w r e crossed to the other side 
upon a raised road which looks down upon a beautiful par- 
terre of gravel walks and flowers, free to the public to look at. 
But the stranger stops at every second step, to gaze about 
and wonder. I had read very glowing descriptions of Bath, 
but my anticipation, even of its size, was three fourths less than 
[362] 



LETTER V. 



363 



the reality. Its picturesqueness is theatrical. No scene pain- 
ter could cluster and pile up palaces, gardens and spires, with 
more daring extravagance. The abundant quarries of free- 
stone in the neighborhood, have furnished all their buiding ma- 
terials, and every house that is not beautifully antique, is of or- 
namental architecture. I saw one or two beggars, but I did 
not see where they could live. Splendid squares, crescents, 
terraces and colonades, monopolize the town. 

We made straight for the " Pump-Koom," of course. It 
lies behind a prodigally Gothic abbey, (one of the most ornate 
and beautiful specimens of the Gothic I ever saw,) and with a 
large paved court before it, surrounded by shops. It is merely 
one large room in a building, which is one of a block, and 
though it was doubtless a very splendid hall when first built, 
it is now outdone by the saloons of common theatres, and by 
the " refreshment rooms" of railroad stations. A semicircular 
counter projects from the wall on one side, studded with cake 
and glasses of chalybeate water, a large mirror hangs opposite, 
and the recess at one end is filled with seats and lounges for 
rest or gossip. Had I been the solitary traveller I usually am, 
I should have sat down in a corner and " put the screws" to 
the ghost of Beau Nash and the belles of his brilliant time 
and circle — but I had better company than my own Pagina- 
tion, and the old master of ceremonies had only a thought sent 
after him. 



LETTER VI 



London. 

I could copy a new leaf from my memory that would be 
very interesting to you, for I dined yesterday in a party of ad- 
mirable talkers, and heard much that I shall remember. But, 
though the brilliant people themselves, whose conversation we 
thus record, are far from being offended at the record — the 
critics (who were not so fortunate as to be there too) are offen- 
ded for them. The giving the talk without naming the talkers 
would make commonplace of it, I am afraid, just as taking 
the wooden labels from the large trees, in the botanical park 
at Kew, would make the exotic groves look indigenous — but 
we must submit to this noisy demand of the critics notwith- 
standing. In a world where one might, possibly, have a real 
fault to be defended for by his friends, it is a pity to put them 
to the trouble of defending them for nothing ! 
[364] 



LETTER VI. 3 65 



I hear much said of two of our countrymen who seem to 
have made a strong impression on society in England. Mr. 
Colman, the agriculturist, is one of them, and his strong good 
sense, and fresh originality of mind were well suited to be rel- 
ished in this country. The other is a gentleman whose pecu- 
liar talent was never before brought to its best market, popular 
as it is in New York — " Major Jack Downing ;" and of his 
power as a raconteur, I hear frequent and strong expressions 
of admiration. This, by the way, and similar talents, which 
are only used for the enlivening of private society, are, in our 
country, like gold ingots at f he mine — scarce recognised as 
value till brought over the water and stamped. I know more 
than one man in America who has gifts from nature that would 
be most valuable to him in English society, and are of no value 
to him in ours. 

To-night is Taglioni's farewell performance, before quitting 
the stage, and I had made up my mind to go and see her, " on 
her last legs," but a more tempting engagement draws me 
another way. I saw her a few nights since, when she was 
doing her best in honor of the approbation of the King of the 
Netherlands. It was in the new ballet of " Diana," but though 
there were certainly some beautiful overcomings of " obedience 
to the centre of gravity," it was duli'd in the memory by the 
dancing of Cerito who followed her. May this latter dancer 
live and stay pretty, till you see her, my dear General ! 

The presence of the King of the Netherlands was quite an 
event at the opera, accustomed as are stall and pit to royal 
company. You know, that, besides being a king, he is a dis. 
tinguished man — (better known as the Prince of Orange who 
fought in the English army at Waterloo.) He looks like a 



366 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND FLACES. 



person of superior talent. His face is cleanly chiselled, and 
his eye is keen. He was dressed in plain clothes, and wore a 
white cravat, and had the air of a highbred barrister, or of 
one whose constant exercise of his intellect had made its mark 
on his physiognomy. He was received first in the box of the 
Duke of Cambridge, all the ladies in the box standing till he 
was seated. The Duke, who talks very loud, and who makes 
the audience smile several times every evening, with some re- 
mark audible all over the house, kept up a conversation with 
him, for a while, and His Majesty then made a visit to the ad- 
joining box, where sat the superb and influential Lady Jersey, 
and her very beautiful daughter, Lady Clementina Villiers. 
(You have seen portraits of these ladies in the annuals.) I 
did not envy him his reception in the first box very particularly, 
though one would like very well to " see how it feels" to be a 
king — but his reception in the second box seemed a heaven 
that would reward one for a great deal of virtue. 

Lady Morgan was present in widows' weeds, and thereby 
very much improved in appearance — (as many women are !) 
I had not seen her ladyship for five or six years, but time 
seems to have been content with taking away Sir Charles. 
She looks well as in 1840 — a long statu quo! She had with 
her a very fascinating niece, and a very large bouquet. 

I write my letters so hastily that I digress as one does in 
conversation. I began with the intention of telling a curious 
story that I had from no less than second hand touching the 
King of the Netherlands and the Princess Charlotte. It was 
told me, a few days since by my neighbor at dinner, a distin- 
guished person, a great admirer of his Majesty, and who pre- 
faced it with a wonder at the caprice of taste. The Prince 



LETTER VI. 



367 



of Orange, as is well known, was originally chalked off, by the 
" high contracting powers," to be the husband of the lovely 
English princess. It was of the first moment to him, then, 
that he should second Destiny in its kind endeavors, and suc- 
ceed in winning her royal affections. He was, however, a' 
prince, and princes in those days, drank hard. He had the 
misfortune to come in tipsy from the dinner-table, when rejoin- 
ing the ladies after a party at which he met his designated v fu- 
ture. The Princess took an invincible dislike to him on that 
occasion. The lady who told the anecdote (to her who told it 
to me) was in attendance on the princess when the prince 
called upon his return from a campaign in which he had dis- 
tinguished himself. He was received very coldly. His uni- 
form was a red coat with green feathers in his cap, and when 
he took his leave, the princess walked to the window to see 
him go down the avenue. " Aha !" thought the lady in wait- 
ing; " if she goes to look after him, the case is not so desper- 
ate, after all !" But the remark of the princess, as she looked 
at his red coat and green feathers, undid the momentary 
illusion — "How like a radish he looks!' 1 said the royal 
Charlotte. A lady often hates the man she loves, but she sel- 
dom ridicules him. The princess was resolute in her aversion, 
and the "forked radish" (which we all resemble according to 
Shakspeare) was superseded by Prince Leopold. 

This being the ' town-talk' (as is the Dutch king at present) 
revives all the defunct anecdotes, of course, and greatness has 
to take into account what it awakes, besides homage, when it 
makes the world take notice of its existence ! (Alas, for draw- 
backs !) 



LETTER VII 



Tired of visiting, dining out, and endless new acquaintances, 
I determined yesterday, to encounter, if possible, nobody who 
would need to be spoken to, but to see sights all day, and try 
what mere absorption would do in the way of mental refresh- 
ment. I began with what I presume, is the most varied show 
in the world, the Colosseum in the Regent's Park. This is 
such an aggregation of wonders that the visitor must have very 
small compassion not to be sorry for everybody who has not 
been there, and very large confidence in his powers of descrip- 
tion to undertake to describe it. How so much is represented 
in so small a compass is as puzzling as the miracles of clair- 
voyance. If one were conjured, bodily, indeed, for five min- 
[368] 



LETTER VII. 36 g 



utes to the ruins of Athens, the next five minutes left lounging 
in a Moorish palace, then dropped into Switzerland, then held 
in an angel's lap high over London — winding up with a wilder- 
ness of galleries, aviaries, conservatories, statuary and grottoes 
— it would, probably, be not a bit more astonishing than a 
visit to the Colosseum, and, of course, not near so agreeable. 
The guide-book, by the way, with drawings of everything, 
which one buys for a shilling at the door, is rather graphically 
written, and an extract from it may help me in conveying an 
idea of the place : — 

" The conservatories are elaborately decorated in the Ara- 
besque style. In the centre is the Gothic aviary, superbly 
fitted up with gilt carved work and looking glass, such as 
Isabella of Castile might be supposed to have constructed 
amidst the relics of a Moorish palace ; or Abu-Abdallah, with 
true Arabian gallantry, to have conjured up for the solace of 
some fair Christian captive, within the enchanted halls of his 
own Alhambra. But of the ingenious and tasteful combina- 
tion of Moorish and Gothic architecture, and decoration of 
this spot, amidst the murmur of sparkling fountains, the songs 
of gaily -plumed birds, and the fragrance of exotic, plants and 
flowers, may transport us in imagination to the country of the 
Cid and the borders of the Xenil, we have but to open the 
glass door wilich leads to the exterior promenade ; and, in an 
instant, the still more picturesque and instructive sight of 
golden pinnacles and eastern domes, springing up amongst the 
marble columns and mouldering frescoes of ancient Greece 
and Rome, wafts us at once to the banks of the Bosphorus 
or the shores of the Mediterranean. In these days of steam-navi- 
gation, and overland journeys to India, when Parisian flaneurs 



370 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



are to be met among the ruins of Carthage, and Bond street 
loungers in the great desert of Sahara — when, in turning a 
corner of the great pyramid you may run against your London 
friend in a Chesterfield wrapper, or, in ascending Mount 
Lebanon, recognize a recent partner at Almack's, in all the 
glory of her last new bonnet from Maradan's, the reality of 
the scene before us is nowise impaired by the modern 
European costume of the visitors, and we may sit us dow T n 
upon this mossy stone, and look upon them as the latest arri- 
vals by " the Oriental," via Malta and Alexandria, or by the 
"Dampschiff" from Vienna to the "Golden Horn." It is 
perhaps more than half an hour since we flew from the top of 
St. Paul's to the south of Spain, to the shores of the Mediter- 
ranean, to the verge of Christendom. We must hurry home 
by the shortest cut — through Switzerland — but not without 
halting for one moment to gaze from the windows of an Alpine 
cottage upon the never-trodden snow, and the hoar glaciers of 
Mont Blanc. We enter then the chalet, or Swiss cottage, 
guided by the roar of the mountain torrent, which, leaping 
over the nearest rocks, comes thundering down the precipices, 
and, after forming a small lake in front of the cottage windows, 
overflows its stony basin, and with a second fall, disappears in 
the gulf below." 

This flowery naming-over of the things one sees at the 
Colosseum is anything but adequate to the reality — the Swiss 
valley (which has a real waterfall, forty-feet high, and a real 
lake) being, particularly, a complete illusion. And there is 
another illusion quite as complete, which you would scarcely 
think possible — a view down upon London by night, with all 
the streets illuminated, the shop-windows glittering, the mar- 



LETTER VII. 



371 



kets crowded, and the moon shining over all ! I could not 
persuade myself that part of it, at least, was not a bit of real 
London let in to the view, and I believed in the moon till I 
had seen it for half an hour — just such a one being really 
outside. The guide book says : — " We confidently state, 
that it is next to impossible that any person can lean over the 
balustrade for five or six minutes, and mark the fleecy clouds 
sailing steadily along, lighted as they come within the influence 
of the halo-encircled moon, which has just emerged from the 
smoke of the great city, and then fading from sight, or occa- 
sionally obscuring the stars that twinkle here and there in the 
apparently illimitable space — we say it is next to impossible 
that they can, after such contemplation, recal themselves im- 
mediately to the conviction that the scene before them is but 
an illusion. Add to this the reflection of the innumerable 
lights upon the bridges in the river, and that of the moon, as 
the flow of the tide occasionally causes the ripple to catch for 
a moment, again to be lost as speedily, the silvery beams of 
the rising luminary, the brilliancy of the shops in Cheapside, 
and on Ludgate Hill — the colored lights of the chemists in all 
directions — the flaring naked gas in the open stalls and mar- 
kets — the cold, pale, moonlight on the windows of Christ 
Church Hospital, and other high and isolated buildings, and 
nothing short of reality can equal the amazing coup d J ceil be- 
fore us." 

I wanted some one to monosyllable -ize to — (for it is as bad 
to be astonished alone, as it is to be astonishingly tired of peo- 
ple) but with this one lack, the morning and the evening — 
(I returned in the evening,) were plenitudes of occupation. I 
felt afterwards, and feel now, as if I had been to the far 



372 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

countries represented, and up in air and down in caverns. 
Many a traveller earns the right really to wear the green tur- 
ban, whose impressions and memories are less worth having. 

One sight I saw, by the way, that was not " down on the 
bill." The centre of the Colosseum is occupied by a circular 
gallery, carpeted and filled with lounges, and in many respects 
luxurious, besides exhibiting an admirable collection of stat- 
uary. I was standing before a bust of Mrs. Norton, (the 
poetess) and comparing its exquisite chiselling with my remem- 
brance of her beautiful features, when a party of ladies with 
very refined, soft voices, approached a statue near by, and be- 
gan criticising it. An instinctive feeling of delicacy forbad 
me to look around, at first, as the statue was the rude figure 
of a reclining woman, but a very masculine guttural following 
a critical remark, I ventured to turn my head towards the 
party. Three ladies, dressed with the most respectable ele- 
gance, one elderly, and the other two, apparently her daugh- 
ters, and both pretty, stood in a patronizing tripod — surround- 
ing a negro ! It was a lad of nineteen or twenty, in a jacket 
and trowsers, entirely black, and as ugly and ill-shaped a negro 
as you could easily find. His hands showed that he had been 
used to hard work, and he had evidently newly arrived in Lon- 
don. The ladies were making a pet of him. One caught hold 
of his arm, and pointed to a bust, and another pulled him to 
see a statue, and they were evidently enjoying the sights, only 
through his astonishment. The figure of the naked saint, 
asleep, with the cross in her bosom, did not seem to shock the 
ladies, but did seem to shock the negro. These ladies were 
probably enthusiasts in anti-slavery, and had got a protege who 
was interesting as having been a slave. At least, this was the 



LETTER VII. 373 



only theory I could build to account for their excessive inter- 
est in him — but one need not be an American to wonder at 
their mode of amusing him. I see, daily, blacks, walking with 
white women, and occupying seats in the dress-circle of thea- 
tres, quite unnoticed by the English; but it was a degree too 
much to see a black boy in a fair way to have his taste cor- 
rupted by white ladies ! 

There is a superb bust of D'Orsay's father in this collection 
— by the Count himself. It represents a magnificent man. 
My letter is getting long. 



LETTER VIII 



There is little need of widening the ditch of prejudice over 
which American books must jump, to be read in England, but 
one of the most original and readable books ever published in 
our country, (Mr. Poe's Tales,) " is fixed," for the present, on 
the nether side of popularity, by the use of a single Ameri- 
canism. The word bng y which with us, may mean an honora- 
ble insect, as well as an unclean one, is hardly nameable in 
England, to ears polite. The first story opened to, in Mr. 
Poe's book, is " The Golden Bug," and the publisher informs 
me that his English brethren of the craft turn their backs upon 
it for this disqualification only. The work is too full of genius 

to be kept, finally, from English admiration, but a word on the 
[374J 



LETTER VIII. 



375 



first page which makes publishers shut the book without look- 
ing farther, will retard its departure from the shelf. 

And, apropos — I see that our brilliant contributor " Fanny 
Forrester," is about to collect her stories, letters, etc., into a 
volume. You will remember the confidence with which I 
hailed the advent of genius in the first letter we received from 
this now well-known pet of the periodicals. I saw, even in 
that hasty production, the rare quality of playfulness ever con- 
stant to good sense — a frolicsome gayety that was remembera- 
ble for its wisdom when the laugh had died away. The play- 
fulness is common enough, and the good sense is common 
enough, but they are not often found together; and, apart, 
they form the two large classes of writers, the trivial and the 
heavy. With one quality to relieve the other, however, as is 
seen in all the productions of charming " Fanny Forrester," a 
style is formed which is eminently captivating to the casual 
reader, and therefore the very best for a contributor to peri- 
odicals. But hers is a style, also, the charm of which is last- 
ing. For the thoughts it is freighted with, are from one of 
the most gifted and most loveable of female natures — thoughts 
first schooled by heavenly purity and tenderness, and then 
loosed to play with the freedom of birds on the wing. I take 
no small pride in having been the first to pronounce the " Eu- 
reka " at the discovery of this bright star. And she has risen 
rapidly in the literary firmament, for it is but a year since 
"Fanny Forrester" was first heard of, through our columns, 
and there are few readers now in our wide country who do 
not know her well. 

I have been shivering about town to day, as usual, in a 
great-coat — scarce having seen a day this summer when I was 



376 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

comfortable without it. What do you mean by keeping the 
upper end of the thermometer all to yourselves ? The Eng- 
lish live in overcoats and under umbrellas, while you are re- 
cording the dropping down of people in the street with the 
heat of the weather ! Among other pastimes I went over the 
river and spent a chilly hour in that vast village of wild beasts 
and birds, the Surrey Zoological Gardens. It is enough to 
give one the heart ache to see the many shapes of the agony 
of imprisonment undergone within these pretty shrubberies 
and hedges. The expression of distress by all manner of crea- 
tures except monkeys, is so painful, that I wonder it should 
be popular as a place of resort for iadie3. But there they 
lounge out the day in great numbers, feeding the elephants, 
tormenting the monkeys, and gazing in upon the howling 
bears, tigers and lions, as if the poor creatures were as happy 
as parlor poodles. I saw, by the way, that most of the names 
upon the cages had the word American before them, which 
helps account for the common English wonder at seeing a 
white man from New York ! I was very glad to get out of 
the " Gardens !" It would be better named a Hell of wild 
animals. 

I see the dark complexions of the East Indies plentifully 
sprinkled among the beggars and street sweepers in London. 
People in turbans and Hindoo coats walk in the crowd unno- 
ticed. The subjugated nations of this modern Eome, are 
represented among the wretched, though half the globe lies 
between their begging place and their home. These Asiatics 
are a symmetrical little people by the way, and their graceful 
Oriental touch to the turban, when they ask alms, looks 



LETTER Vlf/. 377 

strangely out of place amid a populace of such angular 
rudeness. 

London for once, really looks deserted. It is often said to 
be, when there is very little sign of it to a stranger's eye. 
But the Queen's trip to Germany has taken off an unusuai 
number to the land of beer, and Bond-street is gloomy. 



LETTER IX. 



London has been enshrouded to-day in what they call a 
1 blighV — a blanket-like atmosphere which dulls the sun with- 
out the aid of clouds. By taking the pains to hold yovr arm 
close to your eye, on days like this you find it covered with 
small insects, and the trees, in the course of a week will show 
what is their errand from the morasses. Why these leaf-eat- 
ers did not come before, or why they did not stay longer 
where they were, seems to be a mystery, even to the news- 
papers. 

I saw a new combination this morning — a whip and a par- 
asol. A lady most unhappily plain, (whose impression, how- 
ever, was very much mollified by the beautiful equipage she 
[378] 



LETTER IX. 



379 



drove,) came very near running me down at the crowded cor- 
ner of Oxford and Regent streets. She was driving a pair 
of snow-white ponies at a famous pace, and, as she laid the 
lash on very vigorously, in passing ine by, I discovered that 
the whip was but a continuation of the handle of the parasol. — 
In holding up the protector for her own skin, therefore, she 
held up the terror of the skins of her ponies ! It was like so 
many other things in this world, that I went on my way moral- 
izing. 

It should be recorded, by the way, that thongh one sees 
good-looking and cleanly-dressed women trundling wheelbar- 
rows in the streets of London, one sees also that very many of 
the equipages of pleasure are driven by ladies — the usurpation 
covering the sunshiny and voluntary, as well as the shady 
and involuntary extreme of masculine pursuit. It really does 
somewhat modify one's ideas of the fragile sex, however, to 
see some hundreds of them monnted on spirited blood horses 
every day, and every third carriage in the Park driven by the 
fingers that we are taught to press the like of, so very lightly. 
How far this near blending of pursuits, male and female, adds 
to the sympathy and rationality of their intercourse, or how 
far it breaks down the barriers that enshrine delicacy and ro- 
mance, are questions that our friend Godey should settle in 
the "Lady's Book." 

One does not very often see Americans in London, somehow, 
though one sees them by hundreds in Paris : but last night, I 
saw one or two distinguished country people at the opera. 
Mr. Bryant's sachem-like head was in un-recognised contact 
with the profane miscellany of the pit. Mr. Reed, the able 
Philadelphia lawyer, (who made the capital speech, you will 



380 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



remember, at the dinner of the Historical Society a year ago) 
was with a party in the stalls. Mr. Colden of New York was 
present also. A very distinguished looking countryman of 
ours, as well as a very distinguished one, by the way, passed 
through London a few days since on his route to Vienna — 
Mr. Stiles, of Georgia, who was lately appointed onr Charge 
to the capital of Austria. With this gentleman, I was delight- 
ed to meet, as he was a school-boy friend whom I had not seen 
for many years, and for the pleasure of joining him at Vienna, 
I have changed my plans, and given up my proposed winter- 
ing in Paris. Mr. Stiles was kind enough to confer upon me 
a very easily-given, but, at the same time, very useful addition 
to my passport, since as a Charge's secretary and attache, I 
may defy custom-houses and see courts — privileges denied to 
Mr.'s and editors ! I shall leave London soon, and zig-zag it 
to Austria, visiting the intermediate cities in the centre of 
Europe, where you know I have never been, and in the police- 
ified and etiquettical atmosphere of which my embroidered 
passport, trifling as is the addition to it, will save me a deal of 
trouble.* 

To return once more to the subject of the paragraph pre- 
ceeding the last : — I have often remarked another interchange 
of male and female occupation, which, if not peculiar to Eng- 
land, is at least different from the habits of the sexes in our 
country. The men, of the middle and lower classes, share 
freely in the out- doors' care of the children. Ten minutes ago, 
a handsome young soldier, a privata of the Queen's Guards — 

* Of this and the opportunity of a similar appointment by Mr. Wheaton, 
our Minister at Berlin, I was unable to avail myself, from increasing ill- 
ness. 



LETTER IX. 38i 



an elegant fellow, in a high bear-skin cap and full uniform — 
passed up Regent-street before my window, carrying a oaby 
in his arms, very leisurely, and not at all remarked by the 
crowd, though no woman accompanied him. He was proba- 
bly carrying " the child" home, having left the mother to shop 
or gossip ; but what one of your private soldiers, my dear 
General, would quietly walk up Broadway in full uniform, with 
a baby in his arms ? You could not take a walk in London, 
any pleasant day, without meeting a number of well-dressed 
men drawing children in basket wagons. They sit at shop- 
doors with them in their laps, or smoke their pipes while keep- 
ing the cradle going behind the counter. To any possibility 
of ridicule of such duties, the men of this country seem wholly 
insensible. In this and some other matters we have a false 
pride in America, which is both peculiarly American and pe- 
culiarly against nature. 

And, apropos of children — I have taken some vain pains, 
the last day or two, to find in the London shops, India- 
rubber shoes for my little daughter. This article and sus- 
penders of curled India-rubber, which I have also enquired 
for in vain, are two out of many varieties of this particular 
manufacture in which London still remains to be civilized, and 
for that step in civilization, the Queen (whose children go out 
in all weathers, and whose husband wears suspenders,) would 
probably be willing to thank our friend Day of Maiden-lane. 
Most of the uses to which the magical king of Caoutchouc has 
put his subject gum, would be novelties in England, I fancy, 
and he should be advised to set up a branch shop in Eegent 
street, with his celebrated portable India-rubber canoe for a 
sign. 



382 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

The Morning Post states that Frederika Bremer is on her 
way to our country. If ever there was a writer who sees 
things as every one wishes to, and nobody else can — whose 
eyes penetrate just to the right depth through the skin of 
human nature, neither too much nor too little — who describes 
people with an unequalled novelty and just-enough-ness, that 
is to say, and at the same time, invariably betters the heart of 
the reader, it is this Swedish authoress. I would rather see 
her than any woman living whom I have not seen, and I feel 
very much interested that our country should cherish her, and 
show her its appreciation of her womanly and yet wonderful 
genius. 

I write with a pen keeping tune with some very indifferent 
music under my window. My lodgings look out upon Regent 
street, and they have but one objection — the neighborhood of 
a vender of beer who draws customers by giving some manner 
or other of music, nightly, in front of his shop. It is now ten 
o'clock, and six musicians are posted on the side-walk who 
play just well enough to entertain a street crowd of two or 
three hundred people — just well enough to bewitch a man's 
pen, without making it worth his while to stop and listen. 
They are just now murdering the incomparable air to Mrs. 
Norton's song of " Love not," and, to one who has ever had 
his tears startled with it, (as who has not ?) it is a desecration 
indeed. But what a tune to play to such an audience ! The 
flaunting guilt that nightly parades the broad sidewalks of 
Regent-street is now embodied in one dense crowd listening 
attentively to the bitter caution of the song ! It would be 
curious to know how many among them would be now on the 



LETTER IX 383 



other side of the possibility of profiting by it, had they been 
blessed with more careful example and education. 

I went on Sunday to " the city," to hear the poet Croly 
preach in the chapel of St. Stephen's — a small church adjoin- 
ing the mansion house of the Lord Mayor. Of Croly's drama 
of" Cataline" and of his poems, I am (as you know by my 
frequent quoting from them,) a very great admirer. He is a 
fine scholar, and a man of naturally a most dramatic cast of 
mind — all his poems being conceived and presented to the 
reader with invariable stage effect, so to speak. I was curious 
to see him — for, to begin to know a man, mind-first, is like 
living in a house without having ever seen the outside of it. 
The church service was long — precisely two hours and a quar- 
ter before the sermon — and though there was a fine picture of 
the stoning of Stephen over the altar, and tablets to the mem- 
ory of several worthy citizens on the walls and columns which 
it was profitable to read, I found the time pass heavily. Mr. 
Croly was shown into the pulpit at last. He is a tall power- 
fully built man of sixty — stern, gray, and more military than 
clerical in his look and manner. His voice, too, was very 
much more suited to command than to plead. He preaches 
extemporaneously, and he took the chapter from the morning 
service for his subject — the prophet's triumph over the pro- 
phets of Baal. His sermon lasted half an hour, and it was, 
entirely and only, a magnificent painting of the sublime scene 
outlined in the Bible. It was done in admirable language, 
and altogether like a scholar-poet inspired with his theme — 
(its poetry, that is to say) — but very little like most efforts 
one hears in the pulpit. When he had pronounced his Amen, 
I suposed he had only laid out foreground of his sermon, In- 



384 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

cidentally he expressed two sentiments — one, that God chose 
to have miracles prayed for, even when they were certain to 
come to pass, having been predicted by Himself. Second, that 
the popular voice (to which the prophet appealed to pass judg- 
ment on the trial between the Lord and Baal) was the only 
true test of everything ! I thought this last rather a repub- 
lican sentiment for the Lord Mayor's chapel. 

Dr. Croly would have made a modern Peter the Hermit, if 
a new crusade were to be preached up, but he is little likely 
to lead much faster to Heaven than they would otherwise go, 
the charity-school of girls who sit in the broad aisle of his 
chapel. I shall return to my ideal of him as a poet. 






LETTER X. 



If the water in Lake George were turned to meadow, and 
its numberless tall islands left standing as hills, it would be 
very like the natural scenery from Liege to Aix la Chapelle. 
The railroad follows the meadow level, and pierces these little 
mountains so continually, that it has been compared to a 
needle passing through the length of a corkscrew. Liege was 
a scene of Quentin Durward, you will remember, and at present 
is the gunsmithery of Europe, but it graces the lovely scenery 
around it, as a blacksmith in his apron would grace a ball- 
room, and I was not tempted to see much more of it than lay 
in the bottom of a bowl of soup. No bones of Charles the 
Bold, promised in the guide book, nor tusk nor armour of the 
17 [385] 



386 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

"Wild Boar of Ardennes." Scott was never here, and his 
descriptions of town and castle were, of course, imaginary. 

A river is much more of an acquaintance than a mountain, 
and I never see one for the first time, without a mental salu- 
tation, especially if I have heard of it before. The Vesdre 
would scarce he called a river in our country, but it is a lovely 
little stream, that has seen a world of romance, what with love 
and war, and it runs visibly dark from the closeness of the hill-, 
sides to it. and with a more musical ripple (if you please,) for- 
the spirits that haunt it. We got but a glimpse of the Meuse, . 
crossing it at Liege, but we tracked the Vesdre for some dis- 
tance by railroad. Of course it quite knocks a novel on the: 
head to be dragged through its scenes by a locomotive, audi 
if you care much for Queutin Durward, you had better nott 
railroad it, from Brussels to the Rhine. 

"We were stopped an hour to show our credentials on the 
frontier of Prussia, and here (at Aix la Chapelle) I had in- 
tended to make a day's halt. It rained in torrents, however. 
I pulled out my guide-book, and balanced long between stay- 
ing dry in the rail cars, and going wet to see the wonders 
Here are to be seen the swaddling-clothes of our Saviour, 
the robe of the Virgin Mary, the shroud of John the Baptist, 
some of the manna of the Israelites in the wilderness, a lock 
of the Virgin's hair, and the leathern girdle of the Saviour. 
Here, also, is to be seen (with more certainty) the tomb of 
Charlemagne. The church towers which cover these marvel- 
lous sights, loomed up through the shower, but my usual phi- 
losophy of " making the most of to-day " gave way for once. 
Promising myself to see the wonders of Aix on my return, II 



LETTER X. 387 



ordered my baggage into the cars, and rolled away through 
the rain, to the fragrant-named city of Cologne. 

I got my first glimpse of the Rhine through the window of 
an omnibus. From so prosaic a look-out, I may be excused 
for remarking, (what I might not have done, perhaps, from 
the embrasure of a ruined castle,) that it was a very ordi- 
nary looking river, with low banks, and of about the breadth 
of the Susquehannah at Owego. A party of beer-drinkers, 
bearded and piped, sitting under a bower of dried branches in 
front of a tavern, were all that I could see at the moment that 
looked either picturesque or poetical. This was on the way 
from the rail-road station to the Hotel at Cologne. As it was 
the only view I had of the Rhine that does not compel admi- 
ration, I seize the opportunity to disparage it. 

In doing the curiosities of Cologne with a guide and a party, 
I found nothing not thrice told in the many books. Fortunately 
for the traveller, things newly seen are quite as enjoyable, 
though ever so far gone beyond a new description. I relished 
exceedingly my ramble through the narrow streets, and over 
the beautiful cathedral, and I puckered my lips with due won- 
der at the sight of the bones of the " Eleven Thousand Vir- 
gins" in the Convent of St. Ursula. Alas, that, of any thing 
loveable, such relics muy have been a part ! There was no 
choice, I thought, between the skulls — yet there must have 
been differences of beauty in the flesh that covered them. 

I was lucky enough to bring the moonlight and my eyes to 
bear on the cathedral at the same moment— the half-filled 
horn of the Queen of Stars pouring upon the fine old towers, 
a light of beautiful tenderness, while I strolled around 
them once more in the evening. The cathedral of Cologne 



388 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

looks, indeed, a lovely confusion. And quite as lovely, I 
fancy, to eyes that have no knowledge of how window and 
pinnacle put their Gothic legs, ultimately, to the ground. I 
believe in Gothic. I am sure, that is to say, that these inter- 
laced points and angles have a harmony in which lies archi- 
tectural strength ; and with this unexamined creed in my 
mind, like capital in bank, I give to impressions of beauty, un- 
limited credit. This is sometimes the kind of trust with which 
we admire poetry. There is many a strain of Byron's, learned 
by heart for the music that it floats with, the meaning alone of 
which would not have immortalized it for a nameless poet. 

"The castled crag of Drachenfels," 

for example. The noble Cathedral of Cologne, however, 
like others in Germany, stands knee-deep in common houses 
stuck against the wall — a pitiful economy that makes more 
of a blot on their national taste than all the " cologne" of 
" Jean Maria Farina" will ever wash away. And, apropos, it 
was easier to forget the proper sovereign of Cologne than the 
great prince of essences, and I stepped into his shop in pass- 
ing, and breathed for once without a doubt, the atmosphere 
of the genuine " Farina." It was a great warehouse of per- 
fume — boxes and baskets piled up in pyramids of sweetness 
— the sight of so much, however, most effectually overpower- 
ing my desire for the single bottle. Luxuries, to be valu- 
able in this world of small parcels, should be guardedly shown 
to the enjoyer. 

After a little pondering upon the Rhine while sitting on one 
of the stone posts of the w T harf, I started for a moonlight ram- 
ble through the streets. I felt somewhat lonely at that mo- 



LETTER X. 389 



ment— in a city of 80,000 inhabitants without a soul to speak 
to — but I feel, now, as if there was a link of music between 
me and an unknown player at Cologne, for I stood under a 
window and listened to what seemed an improvisation upon 
the piano, but done by a hand that sought nothing from the 
instrument but melody in tune with sadness. Commonly, in 
listening long to music, one has to suspend his heart at inter- 
vals, and wait for a return to the chord from which the player 
has wandered ; but in the varied and continuous harmonies of 
this unseen hand, there,was no note or transition for which my 
mood was not instinctively ready. It was evidently a perfor- 
mer whose fingers syllabled his thoughts in music, and one, 
too, who had no listener but myself. The street was still, and 
all around seemed to be buried in sleep, not a light to be seen, 
except through the crack of the shutters which concealed the 
musician. A few minutes after twelve the sounds ceased and 
the light departed^ but the music was apt and sweet enough 
to be remembered as an angel's ministration. 

The day that had, among its errands, the duty of showing 
me the Ehine, made its obeisance in sober grey, a half hour 
before sunrise. I arose unwillingly, as one does, so early, 
whatever is to befal ; but the steamer was to start at 6, and 
steamers are punctual, even on the track of Childe Harold. 
Following my baggage to the water-side, I found myself on 
board a boat which w r ould hardly pass muster as a ferry boat 
to Staten Island — decks wet, seats dirty, and all hands, appa- 
rently, smoking pipe while the passengers came on board. 
Many kinds of people were hurrying over the plank, however. 
A young man who chose to sit in his travelling carriage while 
it was drawn from the hotel by men's hands, atttracted some 



390 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



notice, and it was soon whispered about that he was Prince 
Napoleon, nephew to the Emperor. He was a pale discon- 
tented looking youth, apparently twenty-two or twenty-five, 
and his servants waited on him with an impassive doggedness 
of servility, that made its comment on the temper of the mas- 
ter. The cashmeres thickened, and spurs and moustaches, 
students 1 caps and pedestrians' knapsacks, soon crowded the 
decks in most republican condition. I looked around, of 
course, in the hope of seeing some one to whom I could say, 
of the beautiful scenery, " how beautiful," and, as my fellow 
travellers had passed under my eye, I had mentally ticketed 
them as one generally does — possible acquaintances, probable 
or impossible And, among those who looked to me both pos- 
sible and desirable acquaintances, were three Englishmen, 
whose manners and countenances at once took my fancy, and 
who, on exchanging cards with me at night, gave me names 
that I had long been familiar with — three of the most distin- 
gished young. artists of England. Somehow, in all the coun- 
tries where I have travelled and made chance acquaintances, 
artists have been, of all the people I have met, the most at- 
tractive and agreeable. 

I was taking a turn on the wharf, for the sake of a few min- 
utes of dry footing before the boat should draw in her plank, 
when, to my surprise, I heard my name, with a feminine ' good 
morning,' from a window overhead. Looking up, I spied a 
lady, leaning out in shawl and night-cap and smoking a cigar ! 
I immediately recognised her as a handsome person whom I 
had chanced to sit beside at a table d'hote, at Brussels, and 
who had the enviable gift of speaking two foreign languages, 
French and English, absolutely as well as her own. She was 



LETTER X. 391 



a German. From the soup to the pudding (two thirds of a 
hotel-dinner) I had supposed I was listening to an English 
woman, and as we had French and Germans at table, and her 
German husband among them, her accomplishments as a prac- 
tical linguist were put to the test and remarked upon. She 
certainly present 3d (to the rising sun and me) rather a start- 
ling tableau — on 3 long lock of hair escaping from her cap, rib- 
bons flying, etcetera — but she removed her cigar so carelessly 
for the convenience of smiling, and showed so little thought of 
caring about fie impression she might make in such trying 
dishabille, that I rather admired my new view of her, on the 
whole. The * tme show 7 from the window of the Astor hotel, 
in New Ynri- would perhaps be thought odd. 



L E T T E R XL 



TO ANY LADY SUBSCRIBER WHO MAY WISH FOR GLEANINGS FROM 
THAT FIRST CONCERT OF JENNY LIND WHICH THE CRITICS OF THE 
DAILY PAPERS HAVE SO WELL HARVESTED. 

Highland Terrace, Sept. 21, 1850. 

Dear Madam — My delight at Jenny Lind's First Concert 
is sandwiched between slices of rural tranquillity — as I went 
to town for that only, and returned the next day — so that I 
date from where I write, and treat to sidewalk gossip in a 
letter " writ by the running brook." Like the previous " Ru- 
ral Letters " of this series, the present one would have made 
no special call on your attention, and w r ould have been ad- 
dressed to my friend and partner — but, as he accompanied me 
to the concert, I could not with propriety write hi in the news 
of it, and I therefore address myself, without intermediation, 
(392) 



JENNY LIND. 



393 



to the real reader for whom my correspondence is of course 
always intended. Not at all sure that I can tell you anything 
new about the one topic of the hour, I will, at least, endeavor 
to leave out what has been most dwelt upon. 

On the road to town there seemed to be but one subject of 
conversation, in cars and steamers; and " Barnum," "Jenny 
Lind," and " Castle Garden," were the only words to be over- 
heard, either from passengers around, or from the rabble at 
platforms and landing places. The oddity of it lay in the en- 
tire saturation of the sea of public mind — from the ooze at the 
bottom, to the "crest of the rising swell" — with the same un- 
commercial, unpolitical, and un-sectarian excitement. When, 
before, was a foreign singer the only theme among travellers 
and baggage porters, ladies and loafers, Irishmen and " col- 
ored folks," rowdies and the respectable rich ? By dint of 
nothing else, and constant iteration of the three syllables 
" Jenny Lind," it seemed to me, at last, as if the wheels of 
the car flew round with it — " Jenny Lind," " Jenny Lind," 
" Jenny Lind" in tripping or drawling syllables, according to 
the velocity. 

The doors were advertised to be open at five ; and, though 
it was thence three hours to the beginning of the concert, we 
abridged our dinner (your other servant, the song-king and 
myself,) and took omnibus with the early crowd bound down- 
wards. On the way, I saw indications of a counter current — 
(private carriages with fashionables starting for their evening 
drive out of town, and several ruling dandies of the hour 
strolling up, with an air of leisure which was perfectly ex- 
pressive of no part in the excitement of the evening) — and 
then I first comprehended that there might possibly be a 
17* 



394 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



small class of dinsenters. As we were in time to see the as- 
sembling of most of the multitude who had tickets, it occurred 
to me to observe the proportion of fashionables among them, 
and, with much pains taking, and the aid of an opera-glass, I 
could number but eleven. Of the Five Hundred who give 
" the ton," this seemed to be the whole representation in an 
audience of six thousand — a minority I was sorry to see, as 
an angel like Jenny Lind may well touch the enthusiasm of 
every human heart, while, as a matter of taste, no more exqui- 
site feast than her singing was ever offered to the refined. 
There should, properly, have been no class in New York — at 
least none that could afford the price of attendance — that was 
not proportionately represented at that Concert. The song- 
stress, herself, as is easy to see, prefers to be the " People's 
choice," and would rather sing to the Fifty Thousand than to 
the Five Hundred — but she touches a chord that should 
vibrate far deeper than the distinctions of society, and I 
hope yet to see her as much " the fashion" as " the popular 
rage" in our republican metropolis. 



Sept. 21, 1851 

Jenny's first coming upon the stage at the Concert has 
been described by every critic. Several of them have pro- 
nounced it done rather awkwardly. It seemed to me, how- 
ever, that the language of curtesies was never before so va- 
ried — never before so eloquently effective. She expressed 
more than the three degrees of humility — profound, profounder 



JEKKY LIN I) 



395 



profoundest — more than the three degrees of simplicity — sim- 
ple, simpler, simplest. In the impression she produced, there 
was conviction of the superlative of both, and something to 
spare. Who, of the spectators that remembered Steffanoni's 
superb indifference to the public — (expressed by curtesies just 
as low when making her first appearance to sing the very solo 
that Jenny was about to sing) — did not recognize, at Castle 
Garden, that night, the eloquent inspiration there might be, 
if not the excessive art, in a curtsey on the stage ? I may as 
well record, for the satisfaction of the great Good-as-you — 
(the " Casta Diva" of our country) — that Jenny's reverence to 
this our divinity, the other night, was not practised before 
Kings and Courts. I was particularly struck, in Germany, 
with the reluctant civility expressed by her curtesies to the 
box of the Sovereign Grand Duke, and to the audience of no- 
bles and gamblers. In England, when the Queen was pres- 
ent, it seemed to me that Jenny wished to convey, in her 
manner of acknowledging the applause for her performance of 
Lr Somnambula, that her profession was distasteful to her. 
In both these instances, there was certainly great reserve in 
her <c making of her manners" — in this country there has, as 
certainly, been none. 

The opening solo of " Casta Diva" was well selected to 
show the quality of Jenny Lind's voice, though the dramatic 
effect of this passage of Bellini's opera could not be given by 
a voice that had formed itself upon her life and character. 
Pure invocation to the Moon, the Norman Deity, as the two 
first stanzas are, the latter half of the solo is a passionate 
prayer of the erring Priestess to her unlawful love; and, to be 
sung truly, must be sung passionately, and with the cadences 



396 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



of love ana sin. On Jenny's lips, the devout purity and im- 
ploring worship and contrition, proper to the stanzas in which 
the Deity is addressed, are continued throughout; and the 
Roman, who has both desecrated and been faithless to her, 
is besought to return and sin again, with accents of sublimely 
unconscious innocence. To those who listened without thought 
of the words, it was a delicious melody, and the voice of an 
angel — for, in its pathetic and half mournful sweetness, that 
passage, on such a voice, goes straight to the least expectant 
and least wakeful fountain of tears— but it was Jenny Lind, 
and not Norma, and she should have the air set to new words 
or to an affecting and elevated passage of Scripture. 

And it strikes me, by the way, as a little wonderful — Jenny 
Lind being what she is, and the religious world being so nu- 
merous — that the inspired Swede, in giving up the stage, has 
not gone over to sacred music altogether. It would have 
been worthy of her, as well as abundantly in her power, to 
have created a Sacred Musical Drama — or, at least, so much 
of one, as the singing the songs of Scripture, in costume and 
character. Had the divine music of Casta Diva, the other 
night, for instance, been the Lamentation of the Daughter of 
Jeptha, and had a background of religious reverence given to 
the singer its strong relief, while the six thousand listeners 
were gazing with moist eyes upon her, how immeasurably 
would not the effect of that mere Operatic music have been 
heightened ! With a voice and skill capable of almost mirac- 
ulous personation, and with a character of her own which 
gives her the sacredness of an angel, she might truly " carry 
the world away," were the music but equal to that of the 



JENNY LIND. 397 



popular operas. Is it not possible to originate this in our 
country ? With hundreds of thousands of religious people 
ready to form new audiences, when she hss sung out her 
worldly music, will not the pure hearted, humble, simple, 
saint-like and gifted Jenny commence a new career of Sacred 
Music, on this side the water ? Some one told me, once, that 
he had heard her sing, in a private room, that beautiful song, 
" I know that my Redeemer liveth !" with feeling and expres- 
sion such as he had never before thought possible. What a 
held for a composer is the Bible ! For how many of its per- 
sonages — Mary, Hagar, Miriam, Ruth — might single songs be 
written, that, sung in the costume in which they are usually 
painted, and with such action as the meaning required, would 
give boundless pleasure to the religious ! The class is well 
worth composing for, and they are well worthy of the service 
of a sequestrated choir of the world's best singers — of whom 
Jenny Lincl may most triumphantly be the first. 

That Jenny Lind sings like a woman with no weaknesses — 
that there is plenty of soul in her singing, but no flesh and 
blood — that her voice expresses more tender pity than tender 
passion, and more guidance in the right way than sympathy 
with liability to the wrong — are reasons, I think, why she 
should compare unfavorably with the impassioned sinners of 
the opera, in opera scenes and characters. Grisi and Steffa- 
noni give better and more correct representations of " Nor- 
ma," both musical and dramatic, than she — and naturally 
enough. It is wonderful how differently the same music may 
be correctly sung; and how the quality of the voice — which 
is inevitably an expression of the natural character and habits 



398 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

of mind — makes its meaning ! It is one of the most interest- 
ing events to have seen Jenny Lind at all — but, her character 
and her angelic acts apart, a woman " as is a woman " may- 
better sing much of the music she takes from operas. 

Of the « Flute Song" and the "Echo Song" the papers 
have said enough, and I will save what else I have to say of 
the great-souled maiden, till I get back to my quarters in the 
city and have heard her again. 

Pardon the gravity of my letter, dear Madam, and believe 
me Your humble servant. 



LETTER 

TO THE LADY-SUBSCRIBER IN THE COUNTRY. 

New York Sept. 1850. 

One prefers to write to those for whom one has the most to 
tell, and I have an ink-stand full of gossip about the great 
Jenny, which, though it might hardly be news to those who 
have the run of the sidewalk, may possibly be interesting 
where the grass grows. Nothing else is talked of, and now 
and then a thing is said which escapes the omniverous traps 
of the daily papers. Upon the faint chance of telling you 
something which you might not otherwise hear without 
coming to town, I put my inkstand into the clairvoyant state, 
and choose you for the listener with whom to put it " in com- 
munication." 

Jenny has an imperfection — which I hasten to record. That 

she might turn out to be quite too perfect for human sym- 
[399] 



400 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

pathy, has been the rock ahead in her navigation of popularity. 
" Pretend to a fault if you haven't one," says a shrewd old 
writer, " for, the ODe thing the world never forgives is per- 
fection." There was really a gloomy probability that Jenny 
would turn out to be that hateful monstrosity — a woman 
without a fault — but the suspense is over. She cannot mount 
on horseback without a chair ! No lady who is common place 
enough to love, and marry, and give her money, to her hus- 
band, ever climbed more awkwardly into a side-saddle than 
Jenny Lind. The necessity of finding something in which 
she was surpassed by somebody, has been so painfully felt, 
" up town," that this discovery was circulated, within an hour 
after it was observed, to every corner of the fashionable part 
of the city. She occupies the private wing of the New- York 
Hotel, on the more secluded side of Washington Place, and a 
lady eating an ice at the confectioner's opposite, was the for- 
tunate witness of this her first authenticated human weakness. 
Fly she may ! (is the feeling now,) for, to birds and angels it 
comes easy enough — but she is no horsewoman ! Fanny 
Kemble, whom we know to be human, beats her at that ! 

Another liability of the divine Jenny has come to my know- 
ledge, though I should not mention it as a weakness without 
some clearer light as to the susceptibilities of the angelic 
nature. It was mentioned to a lady friend of mine, that, on 
reading some malicious insinuations as to the motives of her 
charities, published a few days since in one of the daily papers 
of this city, sne wept bitterly. Now, though we mourn that 
the world holds a man who would so groundlessly belie the 
acts of a ministering angel, there is still a certain pleasure in 
knowing that she, too, is subject to tears. We love her more 



JENNY LIND. 4Q1 



— almost as much more as if tears were human only — because 
injustice can reach and move so pure a creature, as it can us. 
God forbid that such sublime benevolence, as this munificent 
singing girl's, should be maligned again — but so might Christ's 
motive in raising Lazrtus have been misinterpreted, and we 
can scarce regret that it has once happened, for, we know, 
now, that she is within the circle in which we feel and suffer. 
Sweet, tearful Jenny ! She is one of us — God bless her ! — 
subject to the cruel misinterpretation of the vile, and with a 
heart in her angelic bosom, that, like other human hearts, 
needs and pleads to be believed in ! 

I made one of the seven thousand who formed her audience 
on Saturday night ; and, when I noticed how the best music 
she gave forth during the evening was least applauded — the 
Hon. Public evidently not knowing the difference between 
Jenny Lind's singing and Mrs. Bochsa Bishop's, nor between 
Benedict's composition and Bellini's — I fell to musing on the 
secret of her charm over four thousand of those present — 
(allowing one thousand to be appreciators of her voice and 
skill, and two thousand to be honest lovers of her goodness, 
and the remaining four thousand, who were also buyers of 
five-dollar tickets, constituting my little problem.) 

I fancy, the great charm of Jenny Lind, to those who think 
little, is, that she stands before them as an angel in possession 
of a gift which is usually entrusted only to sinners. That 
God has not made her a wonderful singer and there left her, 
is the curious exception she forms to common human allot- 
ment. To give away more money in charity than any other 
mortal and still be the first of primas donnas ! To be an 
irreproachably modest girl, and still be the first of primas don- 



402 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



Das ! To be humble, simple, genial, and unassuming, and still 
be the first of primas donnas ! To have begun as a beggar-child, 
and risen to receive more adulation than any Queen, and still be 
the first of primas donnas ! To be unquestionably the most ad- 
mired and distinguished woman on earth, doing the most 
good and exercising the most power, and still be a prima 
donna that can be applauded and encored ! It is the com- 
bination, of superiorities and interests, that makes the won- 
der — it is the concentrating of the stuff for half-a-dozen hero- 
ines in one simple girl, and that girl a candidate 
for applause — that so vehemently stimulates the curiosity. 
We are not sufficiently aware, I have long thought, that the 
world is getting tired of single-barrelled greatness. You 
must be two things or more — a revolver of genius — to be 
much thought of, now. There was very much such a period 
in Roman history. . Nero found it by no means enough to 
be an Emperor. He went on the stage as a singer. With 
the world to kill if he chose, he must also have the world's 
willing admiration. He slept with a plate of lead on his 
stomach, abstained from all fruits and other food that would 
affect his voice, poisoned Britannicus because he sang better 
than himself, and was more delighted when encored than 
when crowned. So sighed the Emperor Commodus for a 
two-story place in history, and went on the stage as a dancer 
and gladiator. Does any one suppose that Queen Victoria 
has not envied Jenny Lind ? Does Washington Irving, as 
he sits at Sunnyside, and watches the sloops beating up 
against the wind, feel no discontent that he is immortal 
only on one tack ? No ! no ! And it is in America that the 
atmosphere is found (Oh prophetic epluribus unum !) for this 



JENNY LIND. 403 



plurality of greatness. Europe, in bigotry of respect for 
precedent, forgets what the times may be ready for. 
Jenny Lind, when she gets to the prompt, un-crusted and fore- 
shadowing West of this country, will find her six-barrelled 
greatness for the first time subject to a single trigger of ap- 
preciation. Queens may have given her lap-dogs, and Kings 
may have clasped bracelets on her plump arms, but she will 
prize more the admiration for the whole of her, felt here by a 
whole people. It will have been the first time in her career, (if 
one may speak like a schoolmaster,) that the heaven-written 
philactery of her worth will have been read without stopping 
to parse it. Never before has she received homage so impul- 
sive and universal — better than that, indeed, for like Le Ver- 
rier's planet, she was recognised, and this far-away world was 
vibrating to her influence, long before she was seen. 

One wonders, as one looks upon her soft eyes, and her affec- 
tionate profusion of sunny hair, what Jenny's heart can be 
doing, all this time ? Is fame a substitute for the tender pas- 
sion ? She must have been desperately loved, in her varied 
and bright path. I saw a student at Leipsic, who, after mak- 
ing great sacrifices and efforts to get a ticket to her last con- 
cert at that place, gave it away, and went to stroll out the 
evening in the lonely Eosenthal, because he felt his happiness 
at stake, and could not bear the fascination that she exercised 
upon him. Or, is her rocket of devotion divided up into 
many and more manageable little crackers of friendship ? 
Even that most impassioned of women, Madam George Sand, 
says: — " Si Von rencontrait une amitie parfaite dans toute sa 
vie, on pourrait presque se passer d 1 amour y Do the devoted 
friendships, that Jenny Lind inspires, make love seem to her 



404 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



but like the performance, to one listener, of a concert, the 
main portion of whose programme has hitherto been suffi- 
cient for so many ? We would not be disrespectful with, 
these speculations. To see such a heaven as her heart unten 
anted, one longs to write its advertisement of " To Let." Yet 
it would take polygamy to match her ; for, half-a-dozen poets, 
two Mexican heroes, several dry-goods merchants, and a ris- 
ing politician, would hardly " boil down " into a man of gifts 
enough to be worthy of her. The truth is, that all " institu- 
tions " should be so modified as not to interfere with the 
rights of the world at large; and, matrimony of the ordinary 
kind — (which would bestow her voice like a sun-dial in a 
grave) — would rob the Public of its natural property in Jenny 
Lind. But an " arrangement " could be managed with no 
unreasonable impoverishment of her husband ; for, a month 
of her time being equal to a year of other people's, her mar- 
riage contract might be graduated accordingly — eleven months 
reserved to celibacy and fame. It is a " Procrustes bed," 
which cuts all love of the same length, and what " committee 
of reference " would not award a twelfth of Jenny Lind as an 
equivalent consideration for the whole of an average hus- 
band ? 

Doubting whether I should ever venture upon so delicate a 
subject again, I will make a good round transgression of it, 
by recording a little bit of gossip, to show you that the fond 
Public is capable of its little jealousy, like other lovers. There 
is a Swedish settlement in Michigan, which, on Jenny's arri- 
val, sent a committee of one — a young Swedish officer who 
had given up his epaulettes for the plough — to ask a contri- 
bution for the building of a church. Jenny promptly gave 



JENNY LIND. 



40* 



five hundred dollars, and the deputation was very contented 
with that — but added the trifling request for a doxology in 
the shape of a Daguerreotype of the donor. Willing as a 
child to give pleasure to the good, the sweet nightingale 
drove straight to Brady's, allowed the happy sun to take 
her portrait, and gave it to her countryman. But now 
ccmes the part of it which the enamoured Public does not 
like — for, the Committee stays on ! Instead of going home 
to set those carpenters to work, he is seen waiting to help 
Jenny into her carriage after the concerts, and, in the com- 
ments made upon this, his looks are pulled to pieces in a way 
that shows how any approach to a monopoly of her is jealously 
resented. Fancy the possibility of a small settlement in Mich- 
igan having such a " new settler " as Jenny Lind ! 

There is an indication that Providence intended this re- 
markable woman for a citizen of no one country, in the pecu- 
liar talent she possesses as a linguist. A gentleman who re- 
sided in Germany when she was there, told me yesterday that 
one of the delights the Germans found, in her singing and in 
her society, was the w T onderful beauty of her pronunciation of 
their language. It was a common remark that she spoke it 
"better than a German," for, with her keen perception and 
fine taste, she threw out the local abbreviations and corrup- 
tions of the familiar dialect, and, with her mastery of sound, 
she gave every syllable its just fulness and proportion. She 
is perfect mistress of French, and speaks English very sweet- 
ly, every day making rapid advance in the knowledge of it. 

Several of our fashionable people are preparing to give 
large parties, as soon as the fair Swede is willing* to honor 



4 06 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

them with her company, but she is so beset, at present, that 
she needs the invisible ring of Gyges even to get a look at the 
weather without having " an audience " thrown in. She 
can scarce tell, of course, what civilities to accept, or who 
calls to honor her or who to beg charity, but her unconquerable 
simplicity and directness serve to evade much that would an- 
noy other people. 



LETTER XII. 

TO THE LADY SUBSCRIBER IN THE COUNTRY. 

Dear Madam, — It is slender picking at the feast of news, 
after the Daily Papers have had their fill, and, if I make the 
most of a trifle that I find here or there, you will read 
with reference to my emergency. Put yourself in my situa- 
tion, and imagine how all the best gossip of the village you 
live in, would be used up before you had any chance at it, if 
you were at liberty to speak but once in seven days ! 

The belated Equinox is upon us. Jenny Lind, having oc- 
casion for fair weather when she was here, the Sun dismissed 
his storm train, and stepped over the Equator on tiptoe, leav- 
ing the thunder and lightning to sweep this part of the sky 
when she had done with it. She left for Boston and the 
deferred storm followed close upon her departure, doing up 
(407) 



408 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

its semi-annual " chore " with unusual energy. The cobwebs 
of September were brushed away by the most vivid lightning, 
and the floor of heaven was well washed for Jenny's return, 
October and the New York Hotel are now ready for her. 

Pray what do the respectable trees, that have no enthusi- 
asms, think of our mania for Jenny Lind? The maniacs 
here, in their lucid intervals, moralize on themselves. Eeady 
as they are to receive her with a fresh paroxysm next week, 
the most busy question of this week is, " what has ailed us ?" 
I trust the leisurely observer of" The Lorgnette" is watching 
this analysis of a crazy metropolis by itself, and will give it 
us, in a separate number ; for it will describe a curious stage 
of the formation of musical taste in our emulous and fast- 
growing civilization. I think I can discern an advanced step 
in the taste of my own acquaintances, showing that people 
learn fast by the effort to define what they admire. But, of 
course, there is great difference of opinion. The fashionables 
and foreigners go " for curiosity " to the Lind Concerts, but 
form a steady faction against her in conversation. The two 
French Editors of New York, and the English Editor of the 
Albion — (unwilling, perhaps, to let young and fast America 
promote to a full angel, one who had only been brevetted an 
angel in their older and slower countries) — furnish regular 
supplies of ammunition to the opposition. You may hear, at 
present, in any up-town circle, precisely what Jenny Lind is 
?iot — as convincingly as the enemies of the flute could show 
you that it was neither a clarionet nor a bass viol, neither a 
trombone nor a drum, neither a fife, a fiddle, nor a bassoon. 
The only embarrassment her dissecters find, is in reconciling 
the round, full, substantial body of her voice, with their decla- 



JENNY LIND. 



409 



rations that she soars out of the reach of ordinary sympathy, 
and is aerially incapable of expressing the passion of the 
every day human heart. " She sings with mere organic skill, 
and without soul," says one, while another proves that she 
sings only to the soul and not at all to the body. Between 
these two opposing battledoors, the shuttlecock, of course, 
stays where Barnum likes to see it. 

The private life of the great Jenny is matter of almost uni- 
versal inquisitiveness, and the anecdotes afloat, of her eva- 
sions of intrusion, her frank receptions, her independence and 
her good nature, would fill a volume. She is so hunted that 
it is a wonder how she finds time to remember herself — yet 
that she invariably does. Nothing one hears of her is at all 
out of character. She is fearlessly direct and simple in every 
thing. Though " The People'- are not impertinent, the bores 
who push their annoyances under cover of representing this 
her constituency, are grossly impertinent ; and she is a saga- 
cious judge of the difference between them. A charming 
instance of this occurred just before she left Boston. Let me 
give it you, with a mended pen and a new paragraph. 

Jenny was at home one morning, but, having indispensable 
business to attend to, gave directions to the servants to admit 
no visiters whatever. Waiters and maids may be walked 
past, however, and a fat lady availed herself of this mechani- 
cal possibility, and entered Jenny's chamber, declaring that 
she must see the dear creature who had given away so much 
money. Her reception was civilly cold, of course, but she 
went into such a flood of tears, after throwing her arms round 
Jenny's neck, that the nightingale's heart was softened. She 
pleaded positive occupation for the moment, but said that she 

18 



410 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES 

should be at leisure in the evening, and would send her car- 
riage for her weeping admirer if she could come at a certain 
hour. The carriage was duly sent, but it brought, not only 
the fat lady, but three more female admirers, of most unprom- 
ising and vulgar exterior. They were shewn into the draw- 
ing-room, and, in a few minutes, Jenny entered from an ad- 
joining room, followed by half-a-dozen professional persons, 
with whom she had been making some business arrange- 
ments. 

" How is this ?" said the simple Swede, looking around as 
she got into the room ; " here are four ladies, and I sent for 
but one !" 

They commenced an apology in some confusion. 

" No, ladies ! no !" said Jenny ; " your uninvited presence 
here is an intrusion. I cannot send you away, because you 
have no escort ; but your coming is an impertinence, and I 
am very much troubled with this kind of thing." 

The three intruders chose to remain, however, and taking- 
seats, they stayed out their fat friend's visit — Jenny taking 
no further notice of them till their departure. As they got 
up to go, the singer's kind heart was moved again, and she 
partly apologised for her reception of them, stating how her 
privacy was invaded at all hours, and how injurious it was to 
her profession as well as her comfort. And, with this con- 
solation, she sent them all home again in her carriage. 

To any genuine and reasonable approach, Jenny is the soul 
of graciousness and kindness. An old lady of eighty sent to 
her the other day, pleading that she was about to leave town, 
and that her age and infirmities prevented her from seeing 
Miss Lind in public, but that she wished the privilege of ex- 



JENNY LIND. 41 1 



pressing her admiration of her character, and of resting her 
eyes upon one so good and gifted. Jenny immediately sent 
for her, and, asking if she would like to hear her sing, sang to 
her for an hour and a half, with the simplicity of a child de- 
lighted to give pleasure. It is the mixture of this undiminished 
freshness and ingenuousness, with her unbending indepen- 
dence and tact at business, which show this remarkable crea- 
ture's gifts in such strong relief. Nature, who usually de- 
parts as Art and Honours come in, has stayed with Jenny. 

Of course, the city is full of discontented stars that have 
been forced to " pale their intellectual fires" before this bright- 
er glory, and lecturers, concert-singers, primas-donnas and 
dancers are waiting the setting of the orb of Jenny Lind. We 
are promised all sorts of novelties, at her disappearance, and 
of those, and of other events in this busy capital, I will duly 
write you. 



THE REQUESTED LETTER 

(to the lady-reader in the country.) 

New York, Nov. — , 1850. 

Dear Madam, — Your note, of some weeks since request 
ing " a more particular account of Jenny Lind as a woman," 
I threw aside, at first, as one I was not likely to have the 
means of answering. Overrun as she is, in her few leisure 
moments, by numberless visits of ceremony, as well as of in- 
trusion and impertinent curiosity, I felt unwilling to be one 
of the unremembered particulars of a general complimentary 
persecution, and had given up all idea of seeing Jenny Lind 
except over the heads of an audience. Fortunate chance has 
enabled me to see a little more of her than a ticket entitles 
one to, however, and, as this " little more" rather confirms 
and explains to me the superiority of her gifts, I may be 
[412] 



JENNY LIND. 453 



excused for putting it into print as a debt due from herself to 
her celebrity. 

Jenny Lind's reception, of the two or three intellectual men 
into the wake of whose visit I had been accidentally invited to 
fall, was not with such manners as would be learned in society. 
It was like a just descended spirit, practising politeness for 
the first time, but with perfect intelligence of what it was 
meant to express. The freshness and sincerity of thoughts 
taken as they rise — the trustful deference due a stranger, and 
yet the natural cordiality which self-respect could well afford 
— the ease of one who had nothing to learn of courtesy, and 
yet the impulsive eagerness to shape word and manner to the 
want of the moment — these, which would seem to be the ele- 
ments of a simple politeness, were all there, but in Jenny 
Lind, notwithstanding, they composed a manner that was al- 
together her own. A strict Lady of the Court might have 
objected to the frank eagerness with which she seated her 
company — like a school girl preparing her playfellows for a 
game of forfeits — but it was charming to those who were 
made at home by it. In the seating of herself, in the posture 
of attention and disposal of her hands and dress — (small lore 
sometimes deeply studied, as the ladies know !) — she evidently 
left all to nature — the thought of her own personal appearance, 
apparently never once entering her mind. So self-omitting 
a manner, indeed, for one in which none of the uses of polite- 
ness were forgotten, I had not before seen. 

In the conversation of this visit of an hour, and in the times 
that I have subsequently observed Jenny Lind's intercourse 
with other minds, I was powerfully impressed with a quality 
that is perhaps the key to her character and her success in 



414 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

life — a singularly 'prompt and absolute power of concentration. 
No matter what the subject, the " burning-glass" of her mind 
was instantly brought to a focus upon it, and her question or 
comment, the moment after, sent the light through the matter, 
with a clearness that a lawyer would admire. Although con- 
versing i» a foreign language, she comprehended everything 
by the time it was half expressed, and her occasional antici- 
pation of the speaker's meaning, though it had a momentary 
look of abruptness, were invariably the mile-stones ahead at 
which he was bound to arrive. In one or two instances, where 
the topics were rather more abstract than is common in a 
morning call, and probably altogether new to her, she 
summed up the scope and bearing of them with a graphic sud- 
denness that could receive its impulse from nothing but genius. 
I have been startled, indeed, with this true swift-thoughted- 
ness whenever I have seen her, and have analyzed it after- 
wards, and I have no hesitation in saying that the same 
faculty, exercised through a pen, would be the inspiration of 
genius. Jenny Lind, I venture to believe, is only not a bril- 
liant writer, because circumstances have chained her to the 
wheel of a lesser excellence. Perhaps a vague consciousness 
that the perfection of this smaller gift was not the destiny of 
which she was most worthy, prompted the devotion of its 
gains to the mission which compensates to her self-respect. 
Her charities are given out, instead of thoughts " the world 
would not willingly let die." Blessings are returned, instead 
of a fame to her. She moves those within reach of her voice, 
instead of covering all distance with the magnetic net-work 
which will electrify while the world lasts. The lesser service 
to mankind is paid in gold, the higher in immortalitv — but, 



JEXXY UNI). 415 



fated to choose the lesser, she so uses the gold that the after- 
death profit will be made up to her in heaven. Jenny Lind 
choosing between gold by her voice or fame by her pen, has 
been a tableau the angels have watched with interest — I fancy 
the " knockers" would rap twice to affirm ! 

But I doubt, after all, whether Sweden has yet lost the 
poetess or essayist that Song has thus misled or hindered. 
She says very frankly that she shall not sing much longer — 
only till this mission of benevolence is completed — and what 
then is to be the sphere of her spirit of undying activity ? 
There is no shelf for such a mind. There is no exhaustion 
for the youth of such faculties. I am told she has a wonder- 
ful memory, and — for one work alone — fancy what reminis- 
cences she might write of her unprecedented career ! Having 
seen everything truthfully — estimated persons of all ranks 
profoundly — been intimate with every station in life, from the 
Queen's to the cottager's — studied human allotment behind 
its closest curtains, and received more homage than any living 
being of her time — what a book of Memories Jenny Lind might 
give us ! If she were to throw away such material, it seems 
to me, she would rob the eye of more than she has given to 
the ear. 

The more one sees of Jenny Lind, the more one is puzzled 
as to her countenance. One's sight, in her presence, does not 
seem to act with its usual reliable discretion. Like the sinner 
who " went to scoff and remained to pray," the eye goes to 
find her plain, and comes back with a report of her exceed- 
ing beauty. The expression, as she animates, positively alters 
the lines ; and there is an expansion of her irregular features 
to a noble breadth of hannonv, at times, which, had Michael 



416 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

Angelo painted her, would have given to Art one of its richest 
types of female loveliness. Having once seen this, the 
enchantment of her face has thrown its chain over you, and 
you watch for its capricious illuminations with an eagerness 
not excited by perpetual beauty. Of course, she never sees 
this herself, and hence her evident conviction that she is plain, 
and the careless willingness with w T hich she lets painters and 
Daguerreotypists make what they please of her. I noticed, 
by the way, that the engraved likenesses, which stick in every 
shop-window, had not made the public acquainted with her 
physiognomy, for, in a walk of two or three miles in which I 
had the happiness of bearing her company, on a Sunday, and 
when the streets were crowded with the comers from church, 
there was no sign of a single recognition of her. It seemed 
the more strange, as many passed who, I knew, were among 
her worshippers, and any one of whom would confidently 
give a description of her features. So do not be sure that 
you know how Jenny Lind looks, even when you have seen 
her Daguerreotypes and heard her sing. 

In reading over what I have hastily written, I find it 
expresses what has grown upon me with seeing and hear- 
mg the great Songstres — a conviction that her pre- 
sent wonderful influence is but the forecast shadow of a differ- 
ent and more inspired exercise of power hereafter. Her 
magnetism is not all from a voice and a benevolent heart. 
The soul, while it feels her pass, recognizes the step of a spirit 
of tall stature, complete and unhalting in its proportions. 
We shall yet be called upon to admire rarer gifts in her than 
her voice. Deference and honor to her, meantime! 

And with this invocation, I will close ! 



NATURE CRITICISED BY ART. 



JENNY LIND'S PROPITIATORY ACCEPTANCE OF ONE INVITATION FROM 

NEW YORK FASHIONABLE SOCIETY THE HISTORY OF THE DAY OF 

WHICH IT WAS THE EVENING HER MARTYRDOM BY CHARITY-SEEK- 
ERS AND OTHER WANTERS OF MONEY AND GRATIFIERS OF THEIR OWN 

IMPERTINENT CURIOSITY THE CRITICISM OF HER MANNERS AT THE 

PARTY, AS GIVEN IN THE ' COURIER DES ETATS UNIS ' A COUNTER- 
PICTURE OF HER CONVERSATION AND APPEARANCE — SINGULAR ACCI- 
DENTAL ' TABLEAU VIVANT,' &C. &C. 

The stars shine by the light their elevation still enables 
them to receive from the day that has gone past ; and — 
though there would be a severity in limiting ordinary belles 
to shine in the evening only according to the lofty position 
given them by their course through the morning — it is but 
just that those whose mornings so lift them above us that 
they would shine iu heaven itself, should at least be looked up 
18* 



418 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



to with that appreciating deference, which we give more to 
stars than to lights we can trim and brighten. We have ex 
pressed, in this similitude, why a late severe criticism of Jen- 
ny Lind's manners and appearance at an evening party in 
New York society, seems to us as inappreciative and irrever- 
ent as it is inaccordant with our own observation of what it 
describes. Our friend M. de Trobriand, who wrote it, has, 
in many previous articles, expressed the same national pique 
and national want of sympathy with the Northern Songstress 
and Benefactress. She has refused to -sing in Paris, it is true. 
She has openly avowed her distaste for French customs and 
standards. She knew, doubtless, when our friend was pre- 
sented to her, that he was a Frenchman, and the editor of a 
French paper which had invariably disparaged and ridiculed 
her; and, when he spoke to her in three languages, (as he 
did,) and she answered only in monosyllables, (as was the 
case,) he could (reasonably, we think) have attributed it to 
something beside dullness. A fashionable belle might have 
put aside a national prejudice, to be agreeable to an elegant 
nobleman brought up at a Court — but it would have been 
very unlike honest and simple Jenny Lind. For the mono- 
syllables to our friend it is easy to account, thus, without 
blame to her. For those she gave to others, there is still a 
oetter apology, if one were needed — but, let us precede what 
we wish to say of this, by translating the passage to which 
we are replying : — 

" Jenny Lind danced very little — but once, if I remember 
rightly, and without evincing any of that ardor of movement 
which people had pleased themselves by gratuitously accord- 



JENNY LIND. 41 g 



ing to her. She talked as little, and, take it altogether, her 
celebrity would not have been so great, if her singing had 
been as disappointing as her personal appearance. We must 
be excused if we follow her, with pen in hand, even into the 
drawing-rooms, where she found herself in contact with a 
less numerous but more select, and if we put upon their guard 
for the future, those who believe, upon hearsay, in the brilliant 
sayings, the enchanting graces, the affable reception of cour- 
tesies, etc. etc. of Miss Lind, as seen by the naked eye, and 
without the illusion of an opera-glass. When she ceases to 
sing, and begins to converse, the celebrated Swede becomes 
extremely national again. She has, in her voice, but two 
favorite notes, which she never varies, they say, but for the 
privileged, and to which she adheres, with a persistence which 
ordinary martyrs cannot break through — and these two notes 
are Yes and No" 

In all the countries where she has been, Mis3 Lind has in- 
variably avoided gay and fashionable society, dividing what 
leisure she could command, between a few friends chosen 
with reference to nothing but their qualities of heart, and the 
visits of charity to institutions or individuals she could benefit. 
Pleasure, as pursued in " the first society," seems wholly dis- 
tasteful to her. In New York, however, great dissatisfaction 
had been expressed at her refusals of invitations, her non-de- 
livery of letters of introduction which were known to have 
been given to her in England, and her inaccessibility by " the 
first people." This troubled her, for she feels grateful to our 
country for the love poured forth to her, and is unwilling to 
offend any class of its citizens, high or low. From a lady, 



420 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



therefore, with whom she had formed a very intimate and 
confiding friendship, she accepted an invitation to an evening 
party, to be given the day after her last concert in this city. 
It was at this party that M. de Trobriand describes her, in 
the article from which we have quoted above. The country 
villa at which it was given is the most tasteful and sumptuous 
residence in the neighborhood of New York, and a select com- 
pany from the most refined circles of society was there to 
meet her. Before giving our own impression of how she ap- 
peared at this party, it may be, not only just but instructive, 
to tell how she had passed the day of which this was the 
evening. 

It was the morning after her closing Concert, and among 
the business to be attended to, (in the winding up of a visit to 
a city where she had given away $30,000 in charity,) was the 
result certified to in the following report : 

" The undersigned, a Committee named by Miss Lind to divide the 
appropriation of the sum of five thousand and seventy-three dollars and 
twenty cents, [$5,073 20] the proceeds of the Morning Concert recently 
given by that lady for charitable purposes, have distributed the said 
fund as follows : 

New York. Nov. 26, 1850. 

C. S. WOODHULL, 
R. BAIRD, 
R. B. MINTURN, 
WM. EL ASPINWALL, 
JOHN JAY. 
To the society for improving the condition of the poor, $1,000 00 

To the society for relief of widows with poor children, 300 00 

To the Roman Catholic Orphan Asylum, 300 00 



JENNY LIND. 



421 



To the Female Assistance Society, 300 00 

To the Eastern Dispensary, 250 00 

To the Northern Dispensary, 250 00 

To the Eye and Ear Infirmary, 250 00 

To the Hebrew Benevolent Society, 200 00 

To the Home Branch of the Prison Association, 200 00 

To the Home for destitute children of Seamen, 200 00 
To the Institution for education and care of homeless and 

destitute boys, 100 00 
To the relief of poor Swedes and Norwegians in the city 

of New York, per the Rev. Mr. Hedstrom, 273 20 
To the distribution of Swedish Bibles and Testaments in 

New York, 200 00 

To the Brooklyn Orphan Asylum, 250 00 

To the relief of the poor of Williamsburgh, 100 00 

To the relief of the poor of Newark, 100 00 

To the relief of the poor of Jersey City, 100 00 
To the National Temperance Society, $200 ; to the relief 
of the poor at the Five Points, by the Temper- 
ance Association. Rev. Mr. Pease, President, 



to the American Temperance Union $100 500 00 

To the St. George's Society, 500 00 



Total, $5,073 20 

There was also another matter which formed an item in the 
" squaring up" of the New York accounts on that day. A 
paragraph had reached her, making mention of a Swedish 
sailor who had perished in endeavoring to save the lives of 
passengers, on the wreck of a vessel. Jenny Lind had sent 
to the Swedish Consul to make inquiries whether he had left 
a family. His widow and children were found by Mr. Ha- 



422 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES 



bicht, and Jenny had sent him five hundred dollars for their 
use. This was mentioned by the Consul to a lady, who men- 
tioned it to us, and by this chance alone it becomes public. 

But, while all these sufferers were receiving her bounty, 
and she was settling with Banks and Managers for the pay- 
ments — what else was her life made up of, on that day ? 

It was half past nine in the morning, and three servants of 
the hotel, and two of her own servants, had been ordered to 
guard her rooms till she could eat her breakfast. Well-dressed 
ladies cannot be stopped by men servants, in this country, how- 
ever, and her drawing-room was already half full of visiters " on 
particular business," who had crowded past, insisting on en- 
trance. Most of them were applicants for charities, some for 
autographs, some to offer acquaintance, but none, of course, 
with the least claim whatever on her pocket or her time. A 
lady-friend, who was admitted by her servant, saw the on- 
slaught of these intruders, as she rose from her breakfast, — 
(fatigued and dispirited as she always is after the effort and 
nervous excitement of a concert) — and this friend was not a 
little astonished at her humble and submissive endurance. 

First came a person who had sent a musical box for her to 
look at, and, as " she had kept it," he wanted the money im- 
mediately. Jenny knew nothing of it, but the maid was 
called, who pointed to one which had been left mysteriously 
in the room, and the man was at liberty to take it away, but 
would not do it, of course, without remonstrance and argu- 
ment. Then advanced the lady-beggars, who, in so many in- 
stances, have " put the screw to her" in the same way, that, 
without particularizing, we must describe them as a class. To 
such unexamined and unexpected applications, Miss Lind has 



JENNY LIND. 



423 



usually offered twenty or thirty dollars, as the shortest way 
to be left to herself. In almost every instance, she has had 
this sum returned to her, with some reproachful and dispar- 
aging remark, such as — " We did not expect this pittance 
from you /" " We have been mistaken in your character, 
Madam, for we had heard you were generous !" " This from 
Miss Lind, is too little to accept, and not worthy of you I" 
" Excuse us, we came for a donation, not for alms !" — these 
and similar speeches, of which, we are assured, Jenny Lind 
has had one or more specimens, every day of her visit to New 
York ! With one or two such visiters on the morning we 
speak of, were mingled applicants for musical employment ; 
passionate female admirers who had come to express their 
raptures to her ; a dozen ladies with albums ; one or two 
with things they had worked for her, for which, by unmistak- 
able tokens, they expected diamond rings in return ; one who 
had come indignantly to know why a note containing a poem 
had not been answered ; and constant messages, meantime, 
from those who had professional and other authorized errands 
requiring answers. Letters and notes came in at the rate of 
one every other minute. 

This sort of" audience" lasted, at Miss Lind's rooms, all 
day. To use her own expression, she was " torn in pieces" — 
and it was by those whom nothing would keep out. A police 
force would have protected her, but, while she habitually de- 
clined the calls and attentions of fashionable society, she was 
in constant dread of driving more humble claimants from her 
door. She submitted, every day, to the visits of strangers, as 
far as strength, and her professional duties, would any way 
endure — but, as her stay in a place drew to a close, the pres- 



424 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



sure became so pertinacious and overwhelming as to exceed 
what may be borne by human powers of attention, human 
spirits and humau nerves. Her imperfect acquaintance with 
our language, of course, very materially increased the fatigue 
— few people speaking simply and distinctly enough for a for- 
eigner, and the annoyance of answering half- understood re- 
marks from strangers, or of requesting from them a repetition 
of a question, being a nervous exercise, for six or eight hours 
together, which the reader will easily allow to be " trying." 

But — though we have thus explained how there were ex- 
cuse enough for ever so monosyllabic a reception of introduc- 
tions, by Jenny Lind, that evening — our own impression of 
her address and manners was very different from that of the 
gay Baron. Let us tell, in turn, what tee saw, though our 
discourse is getting long, and though our rule is never to put 
private society into print except as hominy comes to market — 
the kernel of the matter, with no clue to the stalk that bore 
it, or the field in which it grew. 

The party was at a most lovely villa, ten miles from town 
on the bank of the Hudson, and the invitations were to an 
" At Home, at five P. M." We were somewhat late, and 
were told, on reaching the drawing-room, that Jenny Lind 
had just danced in a quadrille, and was receiving introductions 
in a deep alcove of one of the many apartments opening from 
the hall. The band was playing delightfully in a central 
passage from which the principal rooms radiated ; and, while 
the dance was still going on beyond, and the guests were 
rambling about in the labyrinths of apartments crowded with 
statuary, pictures, and exotic trees laden with fruits and 



JENNY LIND. ^ 2 n 



flowers, there was a smaller crowd continually renewed at the 
entrance of the alcove which caged the beloved Nightingale. 

Succeeding, after a while, in getting near her, we found her 
seated in lively conversation with a circle of young ladies, and, 
(to balance M. de Trobriand's account of her monosyllabic 
incommunicativeness,) we may venture to add, that she re- 
ceived us with a merry inquiry as to which world we came 
from. This was apropos of the " spirit-knockings" which we 
had accompanied her to visit a few days before ; and a re- 
mark of her own, a moment or two after, was characteristic 
enough to be also worth recording. We had made a call on 
the same " Spirit" since, and proceeded to tell her of the inter- 
view, and of a question we asked them concerning herself — 
her love of fun and ready wit commenting with droll interrup- 
tions as the narrative went on. We named the question at 
] as t : — " Has Jenny Lind any special talent which she would 
have developed but for the chance possession of a remarkable 
voice ; and if so what is it ?" 

" And the spirit said it was making frocks for poor little chil- 
dren, I suppose," was her immediate anticipation of the reply 
— uttered with an expression of arch earnestness, which, con- 
firmed us in the opinion we have gradually formed, that the 
love of the comic and joyous is the leading quality in her tem- 
perament. 

Miss Lind complained repeatedly of great exhaustion and fa- 
tigue, during the evening, and, (as a lady remarked who had seen 
her frequently in private,) looked " as if she could hardly sus- 
tain herself upon her feet." During the time that we remained 
near her, there were constant introductions, and she was con. 
stantly conversing freely — though, of course, when three or 



42Q FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



four were listening at a time, there must have been some who 
received only M monosyllables 1 ' of reply. We noticed one 
thing, however, which we had noticed before, and which we 
safely record as a peculiarity of Miss Lind's — perhaps the 
one which has jarred upon the Parisian perceptions of our 
courtly friend. She is a resolute non-conformist to the flattering 
deceptions of polite society. She bandies no compliments. 
If a remark is made which has no rebound to it, she drops it 
with a "monosyllable," and without gracing its downfall with 
an insincere smile. She affects no interest which she does 
not feel — puts an abrupt end to a conversation which could 
only be sustained by mutual pretence of something to say — 
differs suddenly and uncompromisingly when her sense of 
truth prompts her so to do — repels, (instead of even listening 
silently to,) complimentary speeches — in fact is, at all times, 
so courageously and pertinaciously honest and simple, that 
" society," as carried on in " the first circles," is no atmosphere 
for her. If she were an angel in disguise on a mission to 
this world, (which we are by no means sure she is not,) we 
should expect the elegant M. de Trobriand — Vhomme commeil 
faut, belonging to a Court of Exiled Royalty — to describe 
her precisely as he does. 

But our friend has written one more sentence, against which 
he must put a tableau en vis-a-vis. He says : — " Her celebrity 
would not have been what it is, very certainly, if her singing 
had ever produced as much disappointment as her personal 
appearance. Let us conclude this very long discourse, (which 
we hope our friends have Niblo-fied with a " half hour for re- 
freshment" at some convenient betweenity,) with a picture of 



JENNY LIND. 42 7 



Jenny Lind, as we saw her, a few minutes before she took 
leave, on the evening of the party : — 

The dancing and drawing-rooms were deserted, and the 
company were at supper. Miss Lind, too tired to stand up 
with the crowd, had been waited on by one of the gentlemen 
of the family, and now sat, in one of the deep alcoves of the 
saloon farthest removed from the gay scene, with one of the 
trelliced windows, which look out upon the park, forming a 
background to her figure. We sought her to make our adieux, 
presuming we should not see her again before her departure 
for the South, and chance presented her to our eye with a 
combination of effect that we shall remember, certainly, till 
the dawn of another light throws a twilight over this. An 
intimate friend, with kind attentiveness, was rather preserving 
her from interruption than talking with her, and she sat in a 
posture of careless and graceful repose, with her head wearily 
bent on one side, her eyes drooped, and her hands crossed 
before her in the characteristic habit which has been seized by 
the painters who have drawn her. There was an expression 
of dismissed care replaced by a kind of child-like and innocent 
sadness, that struck us as inexpressibly sweet — which we 
mentally treasured away, at the time, as another of the phases 
of excessive beauty of which that strong face is capable — and, 
as we looked at her, there suddenly appeared, through 
the window behind, half concealed by her shoulder, 
the golden edge of the just risen moon. It crept to her cheek, 
before she had changed the attitude in which she indolently 
listened to her friend, and, for a moment, the tableau was 
complete, (to our own eye as we stood motionless) — of a droop- 
ing head pillowed on the bosom of the Queen of Night. It 



428 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

was so startling, and at the same time so apt and so consistent, 
that, for an instant, it confused our thoughts, as the wonders 
of fairy transitions confuse realities in the perceptions of a 
child — but the taking of a step forward disturbed the tableau, 
and we could, then, only call her own attention and that of 
one or two gentlemen who had come up, to the bright orb 
lifting behind her. The moment after, she had said good- 
night, and was gone — little dreaming, in her weary brain, 
that she had been made part, by Nature, at one of the 
fatigued instants just past in a picture— than which an angel, 
tnoughtfully reposing in heaven, could scarce have been more 
beautiful. 

Parts of the foregoing, of course, we should never have 
unlocked from our casket of memories, but as a counter- 
balance to different impressions of the same admired object, 
recorded by a pen we are fond of There is another purpose 
that portions of the article may serve, however — the making 
the Public aware how pretended charity-seekers, and intrusive 
visitors, persecute and weary the noble creature who is now 
sojourning in the country, and the showing through how 
much difficulty and hinderance she accomplishes her work. 
We would aid, if we could, in having her rightly understood 
while she is among us. 



JENNY LIND. 



An engraving ordered upon the inside of a wedding ring— 
Otto Goldschmidt to Jenny L.ind — gave the news of a certain 
event to "Ball, Tompkins & Black," a week before it was tele- 
graphed to the papers. Jewellers keep secrets. The ring 
went to its destiny, unwhispered of. Its spring — for it is 
fastened with a spring — has closed over the blue vein that has 
so oft carried to that third finger the news of the heart's refu- 
sal to surrender. Jenny Lind loves. She who filled more 
place in the world's knowledge and attention than Sweden 
itself — the Swede greater than Sweden — has acknowledged 
" the small, sweet need of woman to be loved." Her star- 
name, which she had spent half a life, with energy unequalled, 

(429) 



4 3 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



in placing bright and alone in the heaven of renown, is merged 
after all in the Via Lactea of common humanity. " Jenny 
Lind" is a ivife. 

A year or more ago, Jenny Lind stood by the cradle of a 
sleeping and beautiful infant. She looked at it, long and 
thoughtfully, stooped and kissed its heel and the back of its 
neck, (the Swedish geography, w r e believe, for a kiss with a 
blessing to a child) and, turning to its mother, said, with a 
deep sigh, " You have something to live for!" She was, at 
this time, in the busiest tumult of a welcome by half a world. 
Her ambition — so athirst from the first dawn of her mind that 
it seemed to have absorbed her entire being — had a full cup 
at its lips. She was, with unblemished repute, the most re- 
nowned of living women, and with the fortune and moral 
pow r er of a queen. Yet, up from the heart under it all — a heart 
so deep down under pyramids of golden laurels — the outer- 
most approach to which was apparently hidden in clouds of 
incense — comes a sigh over the cradle ofTa child ! 

At one of the concerts of Jenny Lind, at Tripler Hall — we 
forget just how long ago — a newly arrived pianist made his 
first appearance. There was little curiosity about him. The 
songstress, whom the thousands present had gone only to 
hear, sang — lifting all hearts into the air she stirred, to drop 
back with an eternal memory of her, when she ceased. And 
then came — according to programme — " Her?' Otto G-old- 
schmidt." He played, and the best-educated musical critic 
in New- York said to a lady sitting beside him, " The audience 
don't know what playing that is !" But the audience had 
another object for their attention. The side door of the stage 
had opened, and Jenny Lind, breaking through her accus- 



JENNY LIND. 43 1 



tomed rule of reserving her personal presence tor her own 
performances, stood in full view as a listener. The eyes of 
the audience were on her, but hers were on the player. She 
listened with absorbed attention, nodding approbation at the 
points of artistic achievement, and, w 7 hen he closed, (four thou- 
sand people will remember it,) she took a step forward upon 
the stage, and beat her gloved hands together with enthusi- 
asm unbounded. The audience put it down to her generous 
sympathy for a modest young stranger ; and so, perhaps did 
the recording angel — with a prophetic smile ! 

We are sorry we can give our far-away readers no assist- 
ance in their efforts to form an idea of the Nightingale's mate. 
Ladies are good observers, and one who remembers to have 
looked to see the effect of Jenny Lind's compliment, on the 
new comer, tells us he was " a pale, thin, dreamy, poetical- 
looking youth." He will soon be seen and described, how- 
ever, if newspapers live; but, meantime, if we were to give a 
guess at the sort of man he is, we should begin with one pro- 
bability — that he is the most unworldly, unaffected, and truth- 
loving, of all the mates that have ever offered to fold wing be- 
side her. With what she has seen of the world and of the 
stuff for husbands, Jenny Lind has probably come round to 
whence she started — choosing, like a child, by the instinct of 
the heart. Her Oito-biography will show how wisely. 

The interest in Jenny Lind's marriage is as varied as it is 
tender and respectful. There is scarce a woman in the land, 
probably, who, if she felt at liberty to do so, would not send 
her a bridal token. But there is more than a sisterly well- 
wishing, in the general excitement among her own sex on the 
subject. The power, in one person, of trying, purely and to 



432 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



such completeness, the two experiments for happiness — love 
and fame — were interesting enough ; but it is strange and ex- 
citing to see the usual order reversed — -fame frst, and love 
afterwards. To turn unsatisfied. from love to fame, has been 
a common transit in the history of gifted women. To turn 
unsatisfied from fame to love — and that, too, with no volatile 
caprice of disappointment, but with fame's most brimming cup 
fairly won and fully tasted — is a novelty indeed. Simple every 
day love, with such experience on the heart's record before it, 
has never been pictured, even in poetry. 

Jenny Lind has genius, and the impulses and sensibilities 
of genius are an eternal Spring. She is more right and wise 
than would seem probable at a first glance, in marrying one 
younger than herself. The Summer and Autumn of a heart 
that observes the common Seasons of life, will pass and leave 
her the younger. Her prospect for happiness seems to us, 
indeed, all brightness. The " world without" well tried, and 
found wanting — public esteem wherever she may be, and for- 
tune ample and of her own winning — the tastes of both bride 
and bridegroom cultured for delightful appreciation, and the 
lessons of the school of adversity in the memory of both — it 
seems as if " circumstances," that responsible committee of 
happiness, could scarce do more. Frau Goldschmidt will be 
happier than Jenny Lind, we venture to predict. God bless 
hor ! 



THE KOSSUTH DAY. 

THE MAGYAR AND THE AZTEC, OR THE TWO EXTREMES OF 
HUMAN DEVELOPMENT. 

The great Magyar's first impression of Broadway — if he 
was cool enough to lay it away with tolerable distinctness — 
will be as peculiar material for future dream and remembrance 
as any spectacle in which he could have taken part. The ex- 
cessive brilliancy of the weather made a novel portion of it, to 
him. They do not see such sunshine nor breathe such elastic 
air where the world is older. It was an American day, juicy 
and fruity — a slice, full of flavor, from the newly-cut side of a 
planet half eaten. But there were features in the pageant, 
beside, which were probably new to the Magyar. A town 
all dressed with flags and transparencies, and streets crowded 
with people, he may have been welcomed by, before. Poles 
(433) 19 



434 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

and bunting are easily made enthusiastic, and so are the 
crowds afloat in a large city. We went out, for one, expect- 
ing these demonstrations only. What was new — what gave 
the Masyar a welcome unforeseen and peculiar — was the two 
miles of French bonnets and waving cambric pocket hand- 
kerchiefs through which he passed — two miles of from three 
to six-story houses, and every window crowded with fair 
faces and alive with gloved hands waving the perfumed white 
flags of individual admiration. 

The ladies of America have received Kossuth as their hero 

and this is not a trifle. It might readily have been foreseen, 

however. The dominant intellect and purpose that can con- 
trol the mind of a nation, and the perseverance that can fol- 
low its cause to imprisonment and exile, make a statesman 
and patriot worth seeing — even if that were all. But Kossuth 
is, besides, " potent with sword and pen" — he is, besides, elo- 
quent beyond all living men — lie is, besides, heroic-looking, 
courteous and high-bred — and he is, besides all this, a fault- 
less husband and parent. That he dresses picturesquely in 
furs and velvet, wears " light kid gloves " and a moustache, 
and has a carefully set feather in his hat, may be disparage- 
ments among the men — but not among the ladies. He is, to 
them, all that he could be or should be — nothing that he 
should not be. And when we remember what the ladies are, 
in our country — free to read, and expand in intellect, while 
their husbands and brothers drudge and harrow — we can 
safely repeat what we say above, that the lady-constttuency 
which welcomed Kossuth to America, and will sustain him 
here, is by no means a trifle. 

It was really curious, (to leave speculation and confine our 



KOSSUTH. 435 



self to description, that is more amusing,) to be one in the 
crowd on the reception day, and observe the character of the 
enthusiasm. We followed the carriage of Kossuth, ourself, 
from the Astor House to Leonard street — half-a-mile — and 
can speak of Broadway for that much of his progress. In 
this country (where there is no window tax, and every house 
is as full of windows as a sieve is full of holes,) the houses 
look like flat-sided beehives, to a foreigner's eye; and the 
sudden outbreak, apparently, of every brick with a pocket- 
handkerchief, as he rode along, must have seemed to Kossuth 
very extraordinary. The houses looked hidden in snowflakes 
of immense size. It was an aisle between walls of waving 
cambric — and, either from the oddity of this phenomenon, or 
from the attractive glimpses of the smiles behind them, all eyes 
were on the windows and handkerchiefs, none on the side- 
walks and soldiers. As far as we saw, it was a show of ele- 
gantly-dressed ladies, throughout; and, of the beauty and 
taste of the city, the discriminating Magyar can have received 
no indifferent idea. We did not know, (or had " forgotten, 
in the press of business,") that so much loveliness was around 
us, and we are very sure that Kossuth will never see so much 
assembled in any city of Europe. 

The rest of the show — the troops, flags, arches and civic 
ceremonies — are over-described in the other papers ; and, of 
Kossuth himself we omit any special mention till we have 
seen him closer and heard him speak. In our next number, 
perhaps, we shall be able to portray him for our distant read- 
ers, with some material for accuracy. 

At the same time that the u greatest specimen of humanity" 
was thus passing in triumph on one side of the Park, the 



436 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

smallest specimen of humanity was comfortably lodged upon 
the other. We crossed over — partly to astonish the same ten 
minutes with a sight of the two extremes of human nature, 
(contrasts so help one to realize things,) and partly in the way 
of humble servant to our readers, for whom we are bound to 
take every means to be astonished — and called upon the Aztec 
Children, at the Clinton. We will precede our account of 
the visit, by a sketch of the facts concerning them, which we 
find in the Evening Post : 

11 The two children of the South American race, commonly 
called the Aztec Children, have recently been brought to this 
city. They are altogether the most remarkable specimens of 
the human species we have seen — decidedly human, yet so 
variant from the common type of our race, so peculiar in con- 
formation of features, in size, attitude and gesture, that they 
impress one at first with a feeling for which surprise is hardly 
the true name. One can hardly help at first looking upon 
them as belonging to the race of gnomes with which the su- 
perstition of former times once peopled the chambers of the 
earth — a tradition which some have referred to the existence 
of an ancient race, of diminutive stature, dwelling in caverns, 
and structures of unhewn stones, which have long since dis- 
appeared. 

" The race to which they appear to belong — with precisely 
the remarkable conformation of skull — has hitherto been 
thought to be extinct. That it did once exist, and was a nu 
merous and populous race, is proved, not so much by the 
sculptures of Yucatan — though these furnish corroborative 
proof — as by the skulls found in the ancient burial places of 



KOSSUTH. 437 



Peru and Brazil. These skulls have much occupied the atten- 
tion of ethnologists, to whom they have furnished arguments 
and difficulties in the controversy concerning the unity of the 
human race. Until now, however, it has been agreed that no 
living sample of this extraordinary variety was remaining on 
the surface of the globe. 

"The manner in which these specimens of a race supposed no 
longer to exist have been procured, is related in a pamphlet 
just printed, entitled • A Memoir of an Eventful Expedition 
in Central America,' partly compiled and partly translated 
from the Spanish of Pedro Velasquez, of San Salvador. Our 
readers will remember the account given in Stevens's Travels 
in Central America, of a large city among the mountains of 
Central America, inhabited by a race which had never been 
subdued by the white man, and the inhabitants of which slew 
every white man who penetrated into their country. 

" Two young men, Mr. Huertis, of Baltimore, and Mr. 
Hammond, a civil engineer, of Upper Canada, determined to 
visit this city. They landed at Balize, in the autumn of 1848, 
and proceeded to Copan, where they were joined by Velas- 
quez, the author of the narrative. He accompanied them to 
Santa Cruz del Quiche, where the curate lived who gave Mr. 
Stevens the account of the mysterious and inaccessible city, 
the white limits of which he had seen from the mountains, 
glittering in the sun. 

11 They obtained a guide, climbed the mountains, and were 
rewarded with a view of the city — the city of Ivimaya. It 
was of vast dimensions, with lofty walls and domes of tem- 
ples. They were not permitted to enter, however, without 
fighting for it, and an engagement took place between the in- 



438 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



habitants and the visiters, in which the former, who were 
without the use of fire-arms, were worsted, and consented to 
admit the strangers into the city. 

" It was not expected, however, that the guests would ever 
leave the city, and accordingly they were carefully watched. 
Hammond died at Iximaya, but Huertis and Velasquez made 
their escape, carrying with them two orphan children — the 
children who are now in this city — of the ancient priestly race, 
who are described in the following paragraph 

" The place of residence assigned to our travellers, was the 
vacant wing of a spacious and sumptuous structure at the 
western extremity of the city, which had been appropriated, 
from time immemorial, to the surviving remnant of an ancient 
and singular order of priesthood, called Kaanas, which it was 
distinctly asserted, in their annals and traditions, had accom- 
panied the first migration of this people from the Assyrian 
plains. Their peculiar and strongly distinctive lineaments, it 
is now perfectly well ascertained are to be traced in many 
of the sculptured monuments of the central American ruins, 
and were found still more abundantly on those of Iximaya. 
Forbidden, by inviolably sacred laws, from intermarrying with 
any persons but those of their own caste, they had dwindled 
down in the course of many centuries, to a few insignificant 
individuals, diminutive in stature, and imbecile in intellect. They 
were, nevertheless, held in high veneration and affection by the 
whole Iximayan community, probably as living specimens of an 
antique race so nearly extinct. Their position, as an order 
of priesthood, it is now known, had not been higher, for many 
ages, if ever, than that of religious mimes and bacchanals in a 



KOSSUTH. 439 

certain class of pagan ceremonies, highly popular with the 
multitude." 

Shown, unannounced, into a private room where these Aztec 
children were playing, we came upon them rather suddenly. 
The surprise was mostly on our own part, however. Two 
strange-looking little creatures jumped up from the floor and 
ran to shake hands with us, then darted quickly to a wash- 
stand and seized comb and hair-brush to give to the attendant, 
that they might be made presentable to strangers — and, with 
the entire novelty of the impression, we were completely 
taken aback. If we had been suddenly dropped upon another 
planet and had rang at the first door we came to, we should not 
have expected to see things more peculiar. There was no- 
thing monstrous in their appearance. They were not even 
miraculously small. But they were of an entirely new type — 
a kind of human being which we had never before seen — with 
physiognomies formed by descent through ages of thought 
and association of which we had no knowledge — moving, 
observing and gesticulating differently from all other children — 
and somehow, with an unexplainable look of authenticity and con- 
scious priority, as if they were of the " old family" of human 
nature, and we were the mushrooms of to-day. Their size 
and form — but we will save labor by copying a literal descrip- 
tion of their appearance from the Journal of Commerce : — 

" The race of priests to which they belong is supposed to 
have become Lilliputian by the degeneracy which results from 
limiting intermarriage to those of their own caste. The spe- 
cimens brought here are perfect in form, though slight. 
Maximo, the boy, is only thirty-three inches in height, and 



440 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

Bartola, the girl, three or four inches shorter. Their ages 
can only be conjectured, but there are indications of maturity 
about the boy, that are seldom, if ever, witnessed at so early 
an age as twelve. The girl is supposed to be about nine. 
Their skin is of the Indian hue, hair and eyes jet black, the 
latter, large, brilliant and expressive. The hair is wavy and 
very beautiful. Their neat little figures were exhibited to 
great advantage, in black stockinet dresses, fitting closely to 
their bodies and limbs, and short fanciful tunics. They re- 
ceived us with easy gayety. Indeed, they seem to have per- 
fect confidence in all who approach them. Nothing restrains 
their lively, juvenile propensities. They seemed to derive infi- 
nite amusement from their tin cups, presenting them, as in 
giving water, to all who were present, and finally to the cane 
on which they seemed to think it fun alive to ride horseback 
fashion. They are exceedingly docile and affectionate, and 
the little girl seemed quite emulous of receiving as much 
notice as her companion. Their heads are singularly formed 
— the forehead forming nearly a straight line with the nose, 
and receding to an apex which it forms with the back of the 
head — strikingly similar to the sculptured figures on Cen- 
tral American monuments. Nor are they less peculiar in 
their manners and carriage. In general, their attitudes 
exhibit perfect grace ; but we noticed that whenever the boy 
sat upon the floor, as he frequently did, he invariably sat upon 
the inside of his legs and thighs, bending his knees outwards, 
and forming with his legs on the floor the letter W inverted. 
This attitude we have frequently seen exhibited in drawings 
from Egyptian sculptures." 



KOSSUTH. 441 



You do not charge to the original race, as you look at these 
little creatures, either their diminutive size, or their deficiency 
of room for brain. The type of a noble breed is in the 
aquiline nose and soft lustrous eye, and in the symmetrical 
frame and peculiar and indescribable j^'^sence ; and, while you 
remember the intermarriage by which they have been kept 
sacred, and become thus homoeopathic in size, you cannot but 
feel that the essence is still there, and the quality still recog- 
nizable and potent, With little intelligence, and skulls of 
such shape that no hope can be entertained of their being 
ever self-relying or responsible, they still inspire an indefinable 
feeling of interest, and a deference for the something they 
vaguely after-shadow. 

"We sat a half hour, studying these little wonders. The 
little girl, Bartola, held our hand, and looked us full in the 
eye with affectionate confidingness, while the boy backed in 
between the open knees of our partner, Gen. Morris, and sig- 
nified his wish, with the careless authority of a little Emperor, 
to be taken into the lap. With no words of their own, they 
understood what the attendant said to them, and seemed to 
be relieved of their loneliness by our company. A band of 
music approaching while we w T ere there, the little Aztecs 
showed the greatest excitement. We held the boy up to the 
window while the military company went by, and his little 
kitten frame trembled and jumped nervously to the measure 
of the march — music happily being of no language, and stir- 
ring brains of all stages of progress, from Kossuth's, at the 
noon of a race's developement, to the Iximayan's, in its fading 
twilight. 

Our readers will not expect, in our columns, the details of 
19* 



442 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES 



Kossuth's Progress, nor a literal report of his speeches. 
They overwhelm even the double sheets of the daily papers. 
But we shall chronicle a distinct outline of his movements, and 
see that the readers of the Home Journal lose none of the 
ideas j either of his producing or suggesting. He has begun 
with magnificent frankness and boldness, and is un- 
questionably a magnanimous and admirable man, equal to, 
and embarked upon, a great errand. We wish him success — 
not with the legislators, but with the dollars of our country. 
Money enough uill set Hungary free. We trust the enlist- 
ment of these gold and siver recruits will be organized and in 
progress while his eloquence is thundering an accompaniment. 
Many ways will be devised for raising contributions. Let 
us close our present remarks by proposing one — as a natural 
sequent to the peculiarity of which we have spoken in his 
reception. The Magyar's lady constituency in America — 
each one giving but the price of a pair of gloves — a dollar 
from each of the fair admirers of Kossuth and his cause — 
might, almost of itself, secure the independence of Hungary. 
The dollars are willing and waiting — who can doubt ? Will 
not some ruling spirit devise a way to reach and enrol them ? 



NEAE VIEW OF KOSSUTH 



The eye has opinions of its own. Pour into the mind, by 
all its other avenues, the most minute and authentic know- 
ledge of a man, and, when you see him, your opinion is more 
or less changed or modified. This is our apology for adding 
another to the numberless descriptions of Kossuth. Havin°- 
been favored with an opportunity to stand near him during 
the delivery of one of his most stirring speeches, we found 
that our previous impression of him w T as altered, or, rather, 
perhaps, somewhat added to. Trifling as the difference of 
our view from that of others may be, Kossuth is a star about 
whom the astronomy can scarce be too minute ; and our dis- 

(443) 



444 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



tant readers, who are in the habit of hearing of new planets 
from us, may be willing to see how also the Magyar looks, 
through the small telescope of our quill. 

With our distant readers mainly in view, we shall be ex- 
cused for describing Kossuth's surroundings, as well as him- 
self, with a particularity unnecessary for the city reader. 

It has been difficult, without some official errand, to ap- 
proach near enough to the Magyar to distinguish the finer 
lines of his face, and we were beginning to despair of this 
privilege when the Delegation arrived from Baltimore, and, 
from friends among them, we received an invitation to go in 
at the presentation of the silver book. This, we may anticipa- 
torily explain, was the " freedom of the city " in a written ad- 
dress, of folio size, and bound between two leaves of massive 
silver ; the whole enclosed in a case of red velvet. It was 
suitably and creditably magnificent; and its history would 
not all be told without mentioning that it received a kiss from 
Madame Kossuth — Mr. Brantz Mayer having mindfully and 
courteously presented it to that lady — the Governor's Secre- 
tary insisting on taking charge of it — and she refusing to re- 
lease it before pressing it to her lips. Baltimore's blood will 
warm with the compliment. 

On reaching the Irving House at the hour when the silver 
book was to be presented, we found the hotel in a state of 
siege, inside and out. Broadway was packed with people, 
and the staircases of the hotel were hardly passable. One 
Hungarian officer, in brilliant uniform, stood sentry at the 
drawing room door, and here and there a Magyar hat, with 
its go-against-the wind-looking black feather, wound through 
the crowd ; but by the numerous " highly respectables " in 



KOSSUTH. 



445 



body coats and important expressions of countenance, there 
were evidently uncounted Committees waiting to get audience 
within, while flags and bands of music indicated the more 
popular deputations whose hopes were on the balcony without. 

There seemed little chance of any special reception by the 
Magyar, when Howard sent word that he could give the 
Baltimore Delegation his own private parlor, where Kossuth 
would presently come to them. We took advantage of the 
11 presently" to get a look into the street, from one of the front 
windows. It was a sea of upturned faces, with hats all fall- 
ing one way, like shadows — Kossuth the light. He stood on 
the balcony. The many colored flags of the " European De- 
mocracy " throbbed over the crowd — Italians, Germans, 
Frenchmen, Poles — the refugees of all nations standing ga- 
zing on the prophet of Liberty. It was a scene, and had a 
meaning, for history. Yet it was but the one hourh event, in 
a day all occupied ivith such. A band of one hundred of the 
clergy had linked an imperishable testimonial to the hour be- 
fore. The reply to the Baltimore Delegation contained 
truths that will radiate through all time from the hour after. 
Truly, a man's life may be so high and so deep, that, to mea- 
sure it by its length, is meaningless. 

The Baltimoreans made their way to the room appointed, 
w r hich was immediately crowded by privileged spectators, and 
reporters for the press, with a small party of ladies in the 
corner. We were kindly urged to take our place directly be- 
hind Judge Le Grand, who was the central figure of the De- 
legation group, and, as Kossuth stood but four or five feet 
distant, during his reply to the addresses, and with his eye 
upon the Judge almost unvaryingly, we were so fortunate 



446 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



as to see him with every advantage of the closest obser- 
vation. 

Madam Kossuth was presently introduced with Madam 
Pulzky, her companion, and seated a little in advance of the 
lady spectators. She is an invalid, pale and slightly bent — 
her figure fragile, and her expression of face a mingled imprint 
of bodily suffering and conscious belonging to greatness. Her 
countenance, we observed, though earnestly attentive, was 
profoundly tranquil, alike through the more even flow of her 
husband's eloquence and its overwhelming and impassioned 
outbreaks. 

The crowd near the door parted at last, and Kossuth en- 
tered. The gentleman on whose arm he leaned led him to the 
centre of the room, and presented him to the Delegation. 

The reader must remember the tumultuous scene, of which 
Kossuth had been the centre a moment before, when we say 
that he entered and was presented to the Committee, with a 
face as calm as if he had just risen from his morning prayer. 
He bowed, with grave and deliberate deference, at each in- 
troduction. It had been communicated to the gentlemen in 
the room, that, from the injury of movement to his chest after 
the hemorrhage of the morning, he must be excused from 
shaking hands, and he bowed only — assuming the attitude of 
a listener, with an immediate earnestness which show ? ed that 
he felt little strength for more than the main purpose of the 
interview. He stood in the centre of the room, motionless, 
and the reading of the Addresses proceeded. 

The surprise of a man who had placed himself at a win- 
dow to watch for the coming of a stranger, but discovers, 
after a while, that the stranger has been for some time enjoy- 



KOSSUTH. 



447 



ing the welcome of the household within, may vaguely ex- 
press the feeling to which we awoke, after looking for five min- 
utes at Kossuth. He had been, from the first instant, in 
full possession of our heart, and yet the eyes that we had set 
to scrutinize him had not noted a single feature. It was the 
strongest instance we had ever experienced, of what we 
knew to be true, by lesser examples, that the soul, with 
neighborhood only, makes recognitions of what could neither 
be painted nor sculptured, neither uttered nor written. His 
mere j) >e sence opened to him the door, told who he was, and 
set the heart, like Mary, to the washing of his feet. "VVe 
loved and revered the man — why, or with what beginning or 
progress, we could not have explained. But — let us de- 
scribe what we afterwards called upon the eye to take 
note of. 

Kossuth is of medium height, with hollow che.st and the 
forward-brought shoulders of a sedentary life. His head is 
set firmly, not proudly or aristocratically erect, upon his neck. 
He stood so long and so tranquilly immovable in single pos- 
tures, that it raised a question in our mind whether he could 
be of the nervous construction which men of great intellect 
oftenest are; and, on looking at the hand, that tablet of ner- 
vous action, we saw that he was not. The broad smooth 
back of it was unwritten with needless suffering, and tho 
thumb joint projected, like that of a man used to manual 
labor. It was a hand, had we seen its like elsewhere, from 
whose owner we should have expected nothing more poetical 
or heroic than a well-considered vote. We found a subse- 
quent confirmation of this, we may mention, in the singular 
immovableness of the sockets and lids of his eyes, during the 



448 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

eloquent outpourings of his heart which followed. When 
his lips were compressed, and a quivering movement in his 
chin showed that emotion was restrained with difficulty, his 
eye was immovably serene, and its largely spread lids were 
as tranquil as the sky around a moon unclouded. We were 
strongly impressed with these outer signs of the two natures 
of Kossuth. He has a heart like other men — his exquisitely 
moulded chin and lips of exceeding physical beauty and ex- 
pression sufficiently show. But, from all that can reach these, 
his intellect is islanded away. The upper part of his face is 
calmly separate, not only from the movement, but from the 
look, of emotion. It is a mind unreachable by nerves — a 
brain that thinks on, as the sun pursues its way across the 
heavens, unhindered by the clouds that may gather beneath. 
A face, in the lower part of which, sensuous beauty is so 
remarkably complete — and, around the temples, and beneath 
the brow of which, is so stamped the divine impress of an in- 
tellect high above weakness and human by limit only — we 
had never before seen. 

It was quite evident that Kossuth had entered the room, 
simply to fulfil a duty — feeling unequal to it, from his illness 
of the morning and the fatigues he had already undergone — 
and with no idea of making more than the briefest acknow- 
ledgment of courtesy for what he should hear from the Com- 
mittee. Even his dress showed that he was not prepared for 
11 an occasion." He wore a brown cut-away coat, (which 
must have been selected for him by a waiter, sent to a ready 
made clothes shop with a verbal description of the gentleman 
to be fitted,) a black waistcoat buttoned to the throat, no shirt 
visible, and trousers of uninfluenceable salt-and-pepper. That 



KOSSUTH 44g 



the mien and bearing of an Oriental gentleman, as well as 
the dignity of a prophet, were as fully and impressively re- 
cognizable through these Edward-P.-Fox-ables, as through 
the braided cloak and under the black plume of the Magyar, 
is a standard, though a homely one, by which some may be 
helped to an estimate of the man. 

"We have seen repeated mention of the " perpetual smile " 
of Kossuth. This conveys a wrong impression. He may 
smile often and easily when receiving introductions or bowing 
to the cheers of a crowd ; but it is a demonstration which, 
habitually, he keeps very much in reserve, and which, of all 
the visible weapons of his eloquence, is the most rarely and 
aptly introduced, the most captivating and effective. We are 
inclined to think his heavy mustache accidentally favors this, 
by aiding the unexpectedness of the smile, and by leaving its 
fading glow to the imagination — but, at moments when the 
lips of another orator would be cloud-wrapt in the darkest 
expression of solemnity, a gleam, like the breaking away for a 
transfiguration, comes suddenly over the lips of Kossuth — as 
beautiful and inspired a smile certainly as was ever seen on 
the face of a human being — and the effect is in the peculiar 
triumph that he achieves. Love irresistibly follows convic- 
tion. 

As we said before, Kossuth had evidently no idea of mak- 
ing the speech which was drawn from him by the Baltimore 
Delegation — drawn from him, we think, by the superior cast 
of the gentlemen who formed it, and by the fitness, both of 
the manner and accompaniments of the honors they paid him. 
He spoke altogether extemporaneously, and with difficulty 
and hesitation, at first; but, with one or two brilliant and 



450 FAMOUS PERSONS AND FLACES. 



successful illustrations, his words grew more fluent, and, in 
the following passage, he became fully and gloriously aroused. 
It was the first mention he had yet made to the world of his 
intention to return to Hungary a soldier ! 

" As for the future, I shall devote my life to the resurrec- 
tion of my native land. I will endeavor to wrest Hungary 
from the power of tyrants and despots, to procure for her her 
sovereign rights, and the fundamental rights which belong to 
every nation. Should Providence assign me a place in the 
accomplishment of these great designs, I will take care that 
they shall receive no injury from me. I will here remark that 
I have always been extremely anxious not to assume or take 
upon my humble shoulders any duty which I had not a posi- 
tive conviction would not answer me, or which I could not 
perform. Though I was never in actual military service, I 
was ready to help my country in every way I could. I was 
not able to be in every place at the same time, and I had not 
the boldness to take the practical direction of the military 
operations because I feared I was not sufficiently familiar 
with military tactics to do so. I thought that if it so hap- 
pened that any thing should go amiss, and my people be de- 
feated, that I should not only be condemned by my country- 
men, but that my conscience would torture me with the 
feeling, that if I had not undertook to do a thing which I 
did not understand, the fall of my country would not have 
taken place. This was nry conviction. I was not master of 
the practice and strategy of 'war, and I gave the cause of my 
country tints far into other hands. I have seen that cause 
destroyed, and become a failure, and I weep for my country, 



KOSSUTH. 45 j 



not for my own misfortunes. Since I have been in exile J 
have endeavored to improve my intellect from the movements of 
the past, and to prepare myself for the future, and I rely oo 
my people, whose confidence in me is not shaken by my mis- 
fortunes, nor broken by my calumniators, who have misrepre- 
sented me. / have had all in my own hands once, and if I 
get in the same position again, I will act. I will not become 
a Napoleon nor an Alexander, and labor for the sake of 
my own ambition, but I will labor for freedom." 

These are not his words, though they embody the sentiments 
expressed. His own language was as much finer, and as dif- 
ferent from this, as a poem is from its story told in prose 
The reporters are not to blame, taking their notes standing 
amid a crowd as they do — but, (let us say here,) the public 
should give Kossuth credit for incomparably more eloquent 
speeches than they read. An admirable passage, left out in 
what we have quoted, for instance, followed the allusion he 
made to his disappointment in Gcergey, the traitor, the shock 
it gave to his belief in the power of one man to read the soul 
of another, and the lonely trust in himself only, to which it 
had driven him. To the words and the manner with which 
he repeated the declaration that he believed in himself, we do 
not think we shall ever hear the parallel for impressive elo- 
quence. Those who heard it would believe in Kossuth — 
against the testimony of angels. 

Kossuth is too heroic a man to be over-cautious ; and, from 
the kind of freshly impulsive and chivalric energy with which 
he spoke of holding the army in Ins own hand on his return, 
we were impressed with the idea that this evidently unpre- 



452 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



meditated giving of shape to his thought for the future 
had another element in its momentum. It was the reading 
aloud of a newly turned over leaf of his nature. In prison, he 
says, he prepared himself for the next struggle of Hungary by 
making " the science and strategy of war" a study. Profound 
and careful, of course, must be the theory of war — but its 
•practice is with trumpet and banner ; and ever so abstruse 
though the tactics are, they are tried even for the holiest cause, 
with those accompaniments, of personal daring and danger, 
which have, to all lofty minds, a charm irresistible. Of the 
statesman and hero united in Kossuth, the statesman has been 
more wanted, hitherto — but there is a call, now, for the hero 
— and, if he betrays joy and eagerness long suppressed, (as 
we mean to say he did,) in answering that he is ready, what 
American will " wish he had been more careful ?" 

In farther illustration of what we are saying, the reader will 
permit us to change the scene of our sketch, and speak of Kos- 
suth as we saw him more recently — addressing $ic five thou- 
sand of our soldiery in the amphitheatre of Castle Garden. 
It was not, there, the pale, carelessly dressed, and slightly 
bent invalid of the few days before. Oh no ! Neither in 
mien nor in dress would he have been recognized by the pic- 
ture we have drawn of him, above. The scene was enough 
to inspire him it is true. Five thousand brilliantly equipped 
men — with but one thought under every plume and belt, and 
that thought the cause whose highest altar w T as in his own 
bosom— were marshalled beneath his glance, waiting breath- 
lessly to hear him. His look, that night, will never be forgot, 
by those who saw it. He wore a black velvet frock with 
standing collar, and buttons of jet — the single ornament being 



KOSSUTH. 453 



the slender belt of gold about his waist, holding a sword 
gracefully to his side. The marked simplicity of this elegant 
dress made his figure distinguished among the brilliant uniforms 
of the officers -upon the stage; but his countenance, as he be- 
came animated, and walked to and fro before that magnificently 
arrayed audience, was the idealization of a look to inspire 
armies. When Captain French (to whom we make our 
admiring compliments) rose in the far gallery, and insisted on 
being heard, while he offered a thousand dollars from the 
Pusileers to the cause, would any one have doubted that the 
life's blood of those fine fellows icould have come as easy, with 
opportunity ? 

We stop with this mere description. The Kossuth ques- 
tions are discussed sufficiently elsewhere. Our object has 
been to aid the distant reader in imagining the personal appear- 
ance of the man whose thoughts of lightning reach them, 
gleaming gloriously even through the clouds of impoverished 
language on which they travel. We close with a prayer — 
God keep Kossuth to take the field for Hungary ! 



DEATH OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 



The Parisian correspondent of the London Morning Post 
thus makes the first mention of this unexpected event : — 

" We have all been much shocked this afternoon by the sud- 
den death of Lady Blessington. Her ladyship dined yester- 
day with the Duchess de Grammont, and returned home late 
in her usual health and spirits. In the course of this morning 
she felt unwell, and her homoeopathic medical adviser, Dr. 
Simon, was sent for. After a short consultation, the doctor 
announced that his patient was dying of apoplexy, and his 
sad prediction was unhappily verified but too rapidly, as her 
ladyship expired in his arms about an hour and a half ago." 

(454) 



LADY BLESSINGTON. 455 



We doubt whether a death could have taken place, in private 
life, in Europe, that would have made a more vivid sensation 
than this, or have been more sincerely regretted. Indeed, 
a possessor of more power, in its most attractive shape, could 
hardly have been named, in life public or private — for the 
extent of Lady Blessington's friendships with distin- 
guished men of every nation, quality, character, rank and 
creed, was without a parallel. Her friends were carefully 
chosen — but, once admitted to her intimacy, they never were 
neglected and never lessened in their attachment to her. She 
has a circle of mourners, at this moment, in which there is 
more genius, more distinction, and more sincere sorrowing, 
than has embalmed a name within the lapse of a century. 
Noblemen, statesmen, soldiers, church-dignitaries, poets and 
authors, artists, actors, musicians, bankers, — a galaxy of the 
best of their different stations and pursuits — have received, 
with tears at the door of the heart, the first intelligence of 
her death. 

The deceased will have a biographer — no doubt an able and 
renowned one. Bulwer, who enjoyed her friendship as inti- 
mately, perhaps, for the last ten years of her life, as any other 
man, might describe her best, and is not likely to leave, undone, 
a task so obviously his own. Without hoping to anticipate,, 
at all, the portraiture, by an abler hand, of this remarkable 
woman, w T e may venture to send to our readers this first 
announcement of her death, accompanied w T ith such a sketch 
of her qualities of mind and heart as our own memory, 
of the acquaintance we had the privilege of enjoying, enables 
ns easily to draw. 

Lady Blessington, as her writings show, was not a woman 



456 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



of genius in the creative sense of the term. She has origin- 
ated nothing that would, of itself, have made a mark upon 
the age she lived in. Her peculiarity lay in the curiously 
felicitous combination of the best qualities of the two sexes, in 
her single character as it came from nature. She had the 
cool common sense and intrepid unsubserviency which toge- 
ther give a man the best social superiority, and she had the 
tact, the delicacy and the impassioned devotedness which are 
essentials in the finest compounds of woman. She did not 
know what fear was, — either of persons or of opinions, — and 
it was as like herself when she shook her gloved fist in 
defiance at the mob in Whitehall, on their threatening to 
break her carriage windows if she drove through, as it was 
to return to London after her long residence on the continent, 
and establish herself as the centre of a society from which her 
own sex were excluded. Under more guarded and fortunate 
circumstances of early life, and had she attained " the age of 
discretion" before taking any decided step, she would proba 
bly have been one of those guiding stars of individualism 
in common life, alike peculiar, admirable and irreproachable. 
Lady Blessington's generous estimate of what services were 
due in friendship — her habitual conduct in such relations 
amounting to a romantic chivalry of devotedness — bound to 
her with a naturalness of affection not very common in that 
class of life, those who formed the circle of her intimacy. 
She did not wait to be solicited. Her tact and knowledge of 
the world enabled her to understand, with a truth that some- 
times seemed like divination, the position of a friend at tho 
moment — his hopes and difficulties, his wants and capa- 
bilities. She had a much larger influence than was generally 



LADY BLESSINGTON. 457 



supposed, with persons in power, who were not of her known 
acquaintance, many an important spring of political and social 
movement was unsuspectedly within her control. She could 
aid ambition, promote literary distinction, remove difficulties in 
society which she did not herself frequent, serve artists, har- 
monize and prevent misunderstandings, and give valuable 
counsel on almost any subject that could come up in the career 
of a man, with a skill and a control of resources of which few 
had any idea. Many a one of her brilliant and unsurpassed 
dinners had a kindly object which its titled guests little 
dreamed of, but which was not forgotten for a moment, amid 
the wit and eloquence that seemed so purposeless and impul- 
sive. On some errand of good will to others, her superb 
equipage, the most faultless thing of its kind in the world, 
was almost invariably bound, when gazed after in the streets 
of London. Princes and noblemen, (who, as well as poets 
and artists, have aims which need the devotion of friendship,) 
were the objects of her watchful aid and ministration; and we 
doubt, indeed, whether any woman lived, who was so valuable 
a friend to so many, setting aside the high careers that were 
influenced among them, and the high station and rank that 
were befriended with no more assiduity than lesser ambitions 
and distinctions. 

The conversation, at the table in Gore House, was allowed 
to be the most brilliant in Europe, but Lady Blessington 
herself seldom took the lead in it. Her manners were such 
as to put every one at his ease, and her absolute tact at sug- 
gestion and change of topics, made any one shine who had it 
in him, when she chose to call it forth. She had the display 
of her guests as completely under her hand as the pianist his 

20 



458 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

keys; and, forgetful of herself— giving the most earnest and 
appreciative attention to others — she seemed to desire no 
share in the happiness of the hour except that of making each, 
in his way, show to advantage. If there was any impulse of 
her mind to which she gave way with a feeling of carelessness, 
it was to the love of humor in her Irish nature, and her mirth - 
fulness at such moments, was most joyously unrestrained and 
natural. 

In 1835, when we first saw Lady Blessington, she confessed 
to forty, and was then exceedingly handsome. Her beauty, 
it is true, was was more in pose and demeanor than in the 
features of her face, but she produced the full impression of 
great beauty. Her mouth was the very type of freshness and 
frankness. The irregularity of her nose gave a vivacity to her 
expression, and her thin and pliant nostrils added a look of 
spirit which was unmistakable, but there was a steady pene- 
tration in the character of her eye which threw a singular 
earnestness and sincerity over all. Like Victoria, Torn 
Moore, the Duke of Wellington and Grisi, she sat tall — her 
body being longer in proportion than her limbs — and, proba- 
bly from some little sensitiveness on this point, she was sel- 
dom seen walking. Her grace of posture in her carriage 
struck the commonest observer, and, seated at her table, or in 
the gold and satin arm-chair in her drawing room, she was 
majestically elegant and dignified. Of the singular beauty of 
her hands and arms, celebrated as they were in poetry and 
sculpture, she seemed at least unconscious, and used them 
carelessly, gracefully and expressively, in the gestures of con- 
versation. At the time we speak of, she was in perfect ma- 
turity of proportion and figure, but beginning, even then, to 



LADY BLESSINGTON. 45g 



conceal, by a peculiar cap, the increasing fullness under her 
chin. Her natural tendency to plethora was not counteracted 
by exercise, and when we saw her last, two years ago, she 
was exceedingly altered from her former self, and had evi- 
dently given up to an indolence of personal habits which has 
since ended in apoplexy and death. 

There is an ignorance with regard to the early history of 
this distinguished woman, and a degree of misrepresentation 
in the popular report of her life in later years, which a sim- 
ple statement of the outline of her career will properly correct. 
Her death takes away from her friends the freedom of speak- 
ing carelessly of her faults, but it binds them, also, to guard 
her memory as far as Truth can do it, from injustice and per- 
version. 

Lady Blessington's maiden uame was Margaret Power. 
She was born in Ireland, the daughter of the printer and edit- 
or of the Clonmel Herald, and up to the age of twelve or 
fourteen, (as we once heard her say) had hardly worn a shoe 
or been in a house where there was a carpet. At this ao-e of 
her girlhood, however, she and her sister (who was afterwards 
Lady Canterbury) were fancied by a family of wealthy old 
maids, to whom they were distantly related, and taken to a 
home where they proved apt scholars in the knowledoe of 
luxury and manners. On their return to Clonmel, two young 
girls of singular beauty, they became at once the attraction of 
a dashing English regiment newly stationed there, and Mar- 
garet was soon married to an officer by the name of Farmer. 
From this hasty connection, into which she was crowded by 
busy and ambitious friends, sprang all the subsequent canker 
of her life. Her husband proved to be liable to temporary in- 



460 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

sanity, and, at best, was cruel and capricious. Others were 
kinder and more attentive. She was but sixteen. Flying 
from her husband who was pursuing her with a pistol in his 
hand to take her life, she left her home, and, in the retreat 
where she took refuge, was found by a wealthy and accom- 
plished officer, who had long been her admirer, and whose 
" protection " she now fatally accepted. 

With this gentleman, Captain Jenkinson, she lived four 
years in complete seclusion. His return to dissipated habits, 
at the end of that time, destroyed his fortune and brought 
about a separation ; and, her husband, meantime, having died, 
she received an offer of marriage from Lord Blessington, who 
was then a widower with one daughter. She refused the 
offer, at first, from delicate motives, easily understood : 
but it was at last pressed on her acceptance, and she married 
and went abroad. 

Received into the best society of the continent at once, and 
with her remarkable beauty and her husband's enormous 
wealth, entering upon a most brilliant career, she became 
easily an accomplished woman of the world, and readily sup- 
plied for herself, any deficiencies in her early education. It 
w r as during this first residence in Paris that Lord Blessington 
became exceedingly attached to Count Alfred D'Orsay, the 
handsome.-t and most talented young nobleman of France. 
Determined not to be separated from one he declared he 
could not live without, he affianced his daughter to him, per- 
suaded his father to let him give up his commission in the 
army, and fairly adopted him into his family to share his for- 
tune with him as a son. They soon left Paris for Italy, and 
at Genoa fell in with Lord Byron, who was a friend of Lord 



LADY BLESSINGTON. 



4G1 



Blessington's, and with whom they mado a party, for residence 
in that beautiful climate, the delightful socialities of which 
are well described in her Ladyship's " Conversations." 

A year or two afterwards, Lord Blessington's daughter 
came to him from school, and was married to Count D'Orsay 
at Naples. The union proved inharmonious, and they separ- 
ated, after living but a year together. Lord Blessington died 
soon after, and, on Lady Blessington's return to England, the 
Count rejoined her, and they formed but one household till 
her death. 

It was this residence of Lord Blessington's widow and her 
son-in-law under the same roof — he, meantime, separated from 
his wife, Lady Harriet D'Orsay — which, by the English 
code of appearances in morals, compromised the position of 
Lady Blessington, She chose to disregard public opinion, 
where it interfered wnth what she deliberately made up her 
mind was best, and, disdaining to explain or submit, guarded 
against slight or injury, by excluding from her house all who 
would condemn her, viz : — her own sex, Yet all who knew 
her and her son-in-law, were satisfied that it was a useful and, 
indeed, absolutely necessary arrangement for him — her strict 
business habits, practical good sense, and the protection of 
her roof, being an indispensable safe-guard to his personal 
liberty and fortunes— and that this need of serving him and 
the strongest and most disinterested friendship were her only 
motives, every one was completely sure who knew them at all. 
By those intimate at her house, including the best and great- 
est men of England, Lady Blessington was held in unqual- 
ified respect, and no shadow even of suspicion, thrown over 
her life of widowhood. She had many entreaties from her 



462 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES 



own sex to depart from her resolve and interchange visits, 
and we chanced to be at her house, one morning, when a note 
was handed to her from one of the most distinguished noble 
ladies of England, making such a proposal. We saw the 
reply. It expressed, with her felicitous tact, a full apprecia- 
tion of the confidence and kindness of the note she had receiv- 
ed, but declined its request, from an unwillingness to place 
herself in any position where she might, by the remotest pos- 
sibility, suffer from doubt or injustice. She persevered in this 
to the end of her life, a few relatives and one or two intimates 
of her continental acquaintance being the only ladies seen at 
her house. "When seized with her last illness, she had been 
dining with Count D'Orsay's sister, the beautiful Duchess de 
Grammont. 

Faulty as a portion of Lady Blessington's life may have 
been, we doubt whether a woman has lived, in her time, who 
did so many a '.tions of truest kindness, and whose life alto- 
gether w T as so benevolently and largely instrumental for the 
happiness of others. With the circumstances that bore upon 
her destiny, with her beauty, her fascination and her bound- 
less influence over all men who approached her, she might 
easily, almost excusably, have left a less worthy memory to 
fame. Few in their graves, now, deserve a more honoring 
remembrance. 



MOORE AND BARRY CORNWALL. 



Well — how does Moore write a song ? 

In the twilight of a September evening he strolls through 

the park to dine with the marquis. As he draws on his white 

gloves, he sees the evening star looking at him steadily through 

the long vista of the avenue, and he construes its punctual 

dispensation of light into a reproach for having, himself a star, 

passed a day of poetic idleness. " Damme," soliloquizes the 

little fat planet, u this will never do ! Here have I hammered 

the whole morning at a worthless idea, that, with the mere 

prospect of a dinner, shows as trumpery as a 'penny fairing.' 

Labor wasted ! x\nd at my time of life, too ! Faith ! — it's 

dining at home these two days with nobody to drink with me I 

[463] 



464 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

It's eyewater I want ! Don't trouble yourself to sit up for 
me, brother Hesper ! I shall see clearer when I come back ! 

' Bad are the rhymes 
That scorn old wine.' 

as my friend Barry sings. Poetry ? hum ! Claret ? Pri-* 
thee, call it claret !" 

And Moore is mistaken ! He draws his inspiration, it is 
true, with the stem of a glass between his thumb and finger, 
but the wine is the least stimulus to his brain. He talks and 
is listened to admiringly, and that is his Castaly. He sits next 
to Lady Fanny at dinner, who thinks him an " adorable little 
love/' and he employs the first two courses in making her in love 
with herself, i. e., blowing everything she says up to the red 
heat of poetry. Moore can do this, for the most stupid things 
on earth are, after all, the beginnings of ideas, and every fool 
is susceptible of the flattery of seeing the words go straight 
from his lips to the " highest heaven of invention." And Lady 
Fanny is not a fool, but a quick and appreciative woman, and 
to almost everything she says, the poet's trump is a germ of 
poetry. " Ah !" says Lady Fanny with a sigh, " this will be 
a memorable dinner — not to you, but to me ; for you see 
pretty women every day, but I seldom see Tom Moore !" The 
poet looks into Lady Fanny's eyes and makes no immediate 
answer. Presently she asks, with a delicious look of simplicity, 
" Are you as agreeable to everybody, Mr. Moore ?" — " There 
is but one Lady Fanny," replies the poet; " or, to use your 
own beautiful simile, ' The moon sees many brooks, but the 
brook sees but one moon ! (Mem. jot that down.) And so 
is treasured up one idea for the morrow, and when the mar- 



MOORE. 455 



chioness rises, and the ladies follow her to the drawing-room, 
Moore finds himself sandwiched between a couple of whig 
lords, and opposite a past or future premier — an audience of 
cultivation, talent, scholarship, and appreciation; and as the 
fresh pitcher of claret is passed round, all regards radiate to 
the Anacreon of the world, and with that sanction of expecta- 
tion, let alone Tom Moore. Even our " Secretary of the 
Navy and National Songster " would " turn out his lining " — 
such as it is. And Moore is delightful, and with his u As you 
say, my lord !" he gives birth to a constellation of bright 
things, no one of which is dismissed w T ith the claret. Every 
one at the table, except Moore, is subject to the hour — to its 
enthusiasm, its enjoyment — but the hour is to Moore a pre- 
cious slave. So is the wine. It works for him ! It brings 
him money from Longman ! It plays his trumpet in the 
reviews ! It is his filter among the ladies ! Well may he sing 
its praises ! Of all the poets, Moore is probably the only one 
who is thus master of his wine. The glorious abandon w T ith 
which we fancy him, a brimming glass in his hand, singing 
" Ely not yet !" exists only in the fancy. He keeps a cool 
head and coins his conviviality ; and to revert to my former 
figure, they who wish to know what Moore's electricity 
amounts to without the convivial friction, may read his history 
of Ireland. Not a sparkle in it, from the landing of the Phe- 
nicians to the battle of Vinegar Hill ! He wrote that as other 
people write — with nothing left from the day before but the 
habit of labor — and the travel of a collapsed balloon on a 
man's back, is not more unlike the same thing, inflated and 
soaring, than Tom Moore, historian, and Tom Moore, bard ! 
Somewhere in the small hours the poet walks home, and sit- 
20* 



465 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

ting down soberly in his little library, he puts on paper the ' 
half-score scintillations that collision, in one shape or another, 
has struck into the tinder of his fancy. If read from this 
paper, the world would probably think little of their prospect 
of ever becoming poetry. But the mysterious part is done — 
the life is breathed into the chrysalis — and the clothing of 
these naked fancies with winged words, Mr. Moore knows very 
well can be done in very uninspired moods by patient indus- 
try. Most people have very little idea what that industry is — 
how deeply language is ransacked, how often turned over, 
how untiringly rejected and recalled with some new combina- 
tion, how resolutely sacrificed when only tolerable enough to 
pass, how left untouched day after day in the hope of a fresh 
impulse after repose. The vexation of a Chinese puzzle is 
slight, probabl}', to that which Moore has expended on some 
of his most natural and flowing single verses. The exquisite 
nicety of his ear, though it eventually gives his poetry its 
honied fluidity, gives him no quicker choice of words, nor does 
more, in any way, than pass inexorable judgment on what his 
industry brings forward. Those who think a song dashed off 
like an invitation to dinner, would be edified by the progres 
sive phases of a " Moore's Melody." Taken with all its re- 
writings, emendations, &c, I doubt whether, in his most indus- 
trious seclusion, Moore averages a couplet a day. Yet this 
persevering, resolute, unconquerable patience of labor is the 
secret of his fame. Take the best thing he ever wrote, and 
translate its sentiments and similitudes into plain prose, and do 
the thing by a song of any second-rate imitator of Moore, one 
abstract would read as well as the other. Yet Moore's song 
is immortal, and the other ephemeral as a paragraph in a news- 



BARRY CORNWALL. 457 



paper, and the difference consists in a patient elaboration of 
language and harmony, and in that only. And even thus 
short, seems the space between the ephemeron and the im- 
mortal. But it is wider than they think, oh, glorious Tom 
Moore ! 

And how does Barry Cornwall write ? 

I answer, from the efflux of his soul ! Poetry is not labor 
to him. He ivorks at law— he plays, relaxes, luxuriates in poe- 
try. Mr. Proctor has at no moment of his life, probably, after 
finishing a poetic effusion, designed ever to write another line. 
No more than the sedate man, who, walking on the edge of a 
playground, sees a ball coming directly towards him, and 
seized suddenly with a boyish impulse, jumps aside and sends 
it whizzing back, as he had not done for twenty years, with 
his cane — no more than that unconscious schoolboy of four- 
score (thank God there are many such live coals under the 
ashes) thinks he shall play again at ball. Proctor is a pros- 
perous barrister, drawing a large income from his profession. 
He married the daughter of Basil Montague (well known as 
the accomplished scholar, and the friend of Coleridge, Lamb, 
and that bright constellation of spirits,) and with a family of 
children of whom, the world knows, he is passionately fond, he 
leads a more domestic life, or, rather, a life more within him- 
self and his own, than any author, present or past, with whose 
habits I am conversant. He has drawn his own portrait; 
however, in outline, and as far as it goes, nothing could be 
truer. In an epistle to his friend Charles Lamb, he says : — 

" Seated beside this Sherris wine, 
And near to books and shapes divine. 
Which poets and the painters past 



468 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

Have wrought in line that aye shall last, — 
E'en I, with Shakspere's self beside me, 
And one whose tender talk can guide me 
Through fears and pains and troublous themes, 
Whose smile doth fall upon my dreams 
Like sunshine on a stormy sea,****** 

Proctor slights the world's love for his wife and books, and, 
as might be expected, the world only plies him the more with 
its caresses. He is now and then seen in the choicest circles 
of London, where, though love and attention mark most flat- 
teringly the rare pleasure of his presence, he plays a retired 
and silent part, and steals early away. His library is his Par- 
adise. His enjoyment of literature should be mentioned as 
often in his biography as the " feeding among the lilies " in 
the Songs of Solomon. He forgets himself, he forgets the 
world in his favorite authors, and that, I fancy, was the golden 
link in his friendship with Lamb. Surrounded by exquisite 
specimens of art, (he has a fine taste, and is much beloved by 
artists,) a choice book in his hand, his wife beside him, and 
the world shut out, Barry is in the meridian of bis true orbit. 
Oh, then, a more loving and refined spirit is not breathing be 
neath the stars ! He reads and muses ; and as something in 
the pages stirs some distant association, suggests some brighter 
image than its own, he half leans over to the table, and scrawls 
it in unstudied but inspired verse. He thinks no more of it. 
You might have it to light your cigar. But there sits by his 
side one who knows its value, and it is treasured. Here, for 
instance, in the volume I have spoken of before, are some forty- 
pages of " fragments " — thrown in to eke out the volume of his 
songs. I am sure, that when he was making up his book, per- 
haps expressing a fear that there would not be pages enough 



BARRY CORNWALL. 459 



for the publisher's design, these fragments were produced 
from their secret hiding-place to his great surprise. The quo- 
tations I have made were all from this portion of his volume, 
and, as I said before, they are worthy of Shakspere. There 
is no mark of labor in them. I do not believe there was an 
erasure in the entire manuscript. They bear all the marks of 
a sudden, unstudied impulse, immediately and unhesitatingly 
expressed. Here are several fragments. How evident it is 
that they were suggested directly by his reading : — 

" She was a princess — but she fell ; and now 
Her shame goes blushing through a line of kings. 

Sometimes a deep thought crossed 
My fancy, like the sullen bat that flies 

Athwart the melancholy moon at eve. 

****** 

Let not thy tale tell but of stormy sorrows ! 

She — who was late a maid, but now doth lie 

In Hymen's bosom, like a rose grown pale, 

A sad, sweet wedded wife — why is she left 

Out of the story ? Are good deeds — great griefs, 

That live but ne'er complain — naught 1 What are tears 1 — 

Remorse ? — deceit ? at best weak water drops 

Which wash out the bloom of sorrow. 
******* 

Is she dead ? 
Why so shall I be — ere these autumn blasts 
Have blown on the beard of winter. Is she dead ? 
Aye, she is dead — quite dead ! The wild sea kissed her 
With its cold, white lips, and then — put her to sleep : 
She has a sand pillow, and a water sheet, 
And never turns her head, or knows 'tis morning I 
******* 

Mark, when he died, his tombs, his epitaphs ! 
Men did not pluck the ostrich for his sake, 



470 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



Nor dyed 't in sable. No black steeds were there, 

Caparisoned in wo ; no hired crowds ; 

No hearse, wherein the crumbling clay (imprisoned 

Like ammunition in a tumbril) rolled 

Rattling along the street, and silenced grief; 

No arch whereon the bloody laurel hung ; 

No stone ; no gilded verse ; — poor common shows ! 

But tears and tearful words, and sighs as deep 

As sorrow is — these were his epitaphs ! 

Thus — (fitly graced) — he lieth now, inurned 

In hearts that loved him, on whose tender sides 

Are graved his many virtues. When they perish, 

He's lost ! — and so't should be. The poet's name* 

And hero's — on the brazen book of Time, 

Are writ in sunbeams, by Fame's loving hand ; 

But none record the household virtues there. 

These better sleep (when all dear friends are fled) 

In endless and serene oblivion. 
******* 



JANE PORTER, 

AUTHORESS OF " SCOTTISH CHIEFS," " THADDEUS OF WARSAW,' 
ETC., ETC. 



This distinguished woman died recently at Bristol, England, 
at the age of seventy-four. We shall, doubtless, soon have an 
authentic biography of her, from some one to whom her papers 
and other materials will have been entrusted by the brother 
who survives her; but, meantime, let us yield to the tide of 
remembrance which her death has awakened, and arrest, ere 
they float by and are lost, the scattered leaf-memories that may 
recal the summers when we knew her. For the sixteen years 
that we enjoyed the privilege of her friendship, her corre- 
spondence with us was interrupted only by illness, and we hope 
yet to find the leisure to put some of those high-thoughted and 

invaluable letters into print — true reflex as they are of tho 

[471] 



472 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

lofty and true mind which made her fame. Our present 
memoranda will be brief, with a view to that better justice to 
the theme. 

We first saw Miss Porter at the house of Lady S , the 

sister of Lady Franklin, a few weeks after our first arrival in 
London, in 1834. It was at a large party, thronged with the 
scientific and literary persons who form the society of a man 
like Sir John Franklin. The great navigator, whose fate now 
excites so deep an interest, was present, and he was almost 
the only celebrity in the room whom we did not then see for 
the first time — Sir John having been in command of the Eng- 
lish fleet in the Mediterranean, and Lady Franklin at Athens 
when we chanced to be there. The noble head and majestic 
frame of the fine old sailor showed in strong relief, even among 
the great men who surrounded him, and we well remember 
the confirmed impression, of his native dignity and superiority 
of presence, which we received at that time. 

A very tall lady, apparently about fifty years of age, had 
arrested our attention early in the evening, and, whenever un- 
occupied, we found ourself turning to observe her, with a mag- 
netism which we could not resist. She was dressed completely 
in black, with black lace upon the neck, and black feathers 
drooping over the knot of her slightly grey hair. Her person 
was very erect, and, though her conversation was evidently play- 
ful with all who spoke with her, there was an exceeding loftiness, 
and an air of unconscious and easy nobility, in her mien and 
countenance, which was truly remarkable. She was like the 
ideal which one forms of a Lady Abbess of noble blood, or of 
Queen Katharine. The deference with which she was ad- 
dressed was mingled invariably with an affectionate cordiality, 



JANE PORTER. 473 



however, which puzzled our conjectures a little, for it is not 
common to see the two feelings inspired with equal certainty 
by the same presence. It chanced to be late in the evening be- 
fore we had an opportunity of enquiring the name of this 
lady, and, when we heard who she was, we recognized at once 
that very unusual phenomenon — a complete fitness of the 
outer temple to the fame whose deathless lamp is enshrined 
within it. It was Jane Porter, and she looked as one would 
have expected her to look, who had conjured up her image by 
aid of magic, after being carried away by her enchantments 
of story. 

We were presented to Miss Porter by Sir John Franklin, 
just before the breaking up of the party that evening, and, 
soon after, we were so fortunate as to be a guest, with her, at 
one of those English country-houses which are the perfection 
of luxury and refinement, and where there was the opportunity 
to see her with her proper surroundings. Of the impression 
received at that time, we have already made a slight record, 
which some of our readers may remember : — 

" One of the most elegant and agreeable persons I ever saw 
was Miss Porter, and I think her conversation more delight- 
ful to remember than any person's I ever knew. A distin- 
guished artist told me that he remembered her when she was 
his beau ideal of female beauty ; but in those days she was 
more " fancy rapt," and gave in less to the current and spirit 
of society. Age has made her, if it may be so expressed, less 
selfish in her use of thought, and she pours it forth like Pacto- 
} us — that gold which is sand from others. She is still what I 
should call a handsome woman, or, if that be not allowed, she 



474 FAMOUS PERSONS AND FLACES. 



is the wreck of more than a common allotment of beauty, and 
looks it. Her person is remarkaWy erect, her eyes and eye- 
lids (in this latter resembling Scott) very heavily moulded, and 
her smile is beautiful. It strikes me that it always is so — 
where it ever was. The smile seems to be the work of the 
soul. 

" I have passed months under the same roof with Miss Por- 
ter, and nothing gave me more pleasure than to find the com- 
pany in that hospitable house dwindled to a " fit audience 
though few," and gathered around the figure in deep mourn- 
ing w r hich occupied the warmest corner of the sofa. In any 
vein, and apropos to the gravest and the gayest subject, her 
well stored mind and memory flowed forth in the same rich 
current of mingled story and reflection, and I never saw an 
impatient listener beside her I recollect one evening a lady's 
singing " Auld Robin Gray ; " and some one remarking (rather 

unsentimentally,) at the close, " By-the-by what is Lady 

(the authoress of the ballad) doing with so many carpenters 
Berkeley-square is quite deafened with their hammering !' 

"Apropos of carpenters and Lady ," said Miss Porter, 

" this charming ballad-writer owes something to the craft. 
She was better-born than provided with the gifts of fortune, 
and in her younger days was once on a visit to a noble house, 
when, to her dismay, a large and fashionable company arrived 
who brought with them a mania for private theatricals. Her 
wardrobe was very slender, barely sufficient for the ordinary 
events of a week day, and her purse contained one solitary 
shilling. To leave the house was out of the question, to feign 
illness as much so, and to decline taking a part was impossible, 
for her talent and sprightliness were the hope of the theatre. 



JANE PORTER. 475 



A part was cast for her, and, in despair, she excused herself 
from the gay party bound to the country town to make pur- 
chases of silk and satin, and shut herself up, a prey to mortified 
low spirits. The character required a smart village dress, and 
it certainly did not seem that it could come out of a shilling. 
She sat at her window, biting her lips, and turning over in her 
mind whether she could borrow of some one, when her atten- 
tion was attracted to a carpenter, who was employed in the 
construction of a stage in the large hall, and who, in the court 
below, was turning off from his plane broad and long shavings 
of a peculiarly striped wood. It struck her that it was like 
riband. The next moment she was below, and begged of the 
man to give her half-a-dozen lengths as smooth as he could 
shave them. He performed his task well, and depositing 
them in her apartment, she set off alone on horseback to the 
village, and with her single shilling succeeded in purchasing a 
chip hat of the coarsest fabric. She carried it home, exult- 
ingly, trimmed it with her pine shavings, and on the evening 
of the performance appeared with a white dress, and hat and 
belt ribands which were the envy of the audience. The suc- 
cess of her invention gave her spirits and assurance, and she 
played to admiration. The sequel will justify my first remark. 
She made a conquest on that night of one of her titled audi- 
•tors, whom she afterward married. You will allow that Lady 
may afford to be tolerant of carpenters." 

It was two years after this first meeting of Miss Porter at 
Park, that we accepted an invitation to meet her at the 



house of a Baronet in Warwickshire, and of that visit the fol- 



476 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



lowing mention is made in Sketches of Travel already pub 
lished : — 

" I remembered a promise I had nearly forgotten, that I 
would reserve my visit to Stratford till I could be accompanied 
by Miss J. Porter, whom I was to have the honor of meeting 
at my place of destination ; and promising an early acceptance 
of the landlady's invitation, I hurried on to my appointment 
over the fertile hills of Warwickshire. 

" I was established in one of those old Elizabethan country- 
houses which with their vast parks, their self-sufficing resources 
of subsistence and company, and the absolute deference shown 
on all sides to the lord of the manor,<_;ive one the impression rather 
of a little kingdom with a castle in its heart, than of an abode for a 
gentleman subject. The house itself (called, like most houses 
of this size and consequence in Warwickshire, a ' Court,') was 
a Gothic half-castellated square, with four round towers, and 
innumerable embrasures and windows; two wings in front, pro- 
bably more modern than the body of the house, and again 
two long wings extending to the rear, at right angles, and 

DO O ) o o / 

enclosing a flowery and formal parterre. There had been a 
trench about it, now filled up, and at a short distance from 
the house stood a polyangular and massive structure, well cal- 
culated for defence, and intended as a strong-hold for the retreat- 
of the family and tenants in more troubled times. One of these 
rear wings enclosed a catholic chapel, for the worship of the 
baronet and those of his tenants who professed the same faith ; 
while on the northern side, between the house and the garden, 
stood a large, protestant stone church, with a turret and spire, 
both chapel and church, with their clergyman and priest, depen- 



JANE PORTER. 477 



dant on the estate, and equally favored by the liberal and high- 
minded baronet. The tenantry formed two considerable con 
gregations, and lived and worshipped side by side, with the 
most perfect harmony — an instance of real Christianity, in 
my opinion, which the angels of heaven might come down to 
see. A lovely rural grave-yard for the lord and tenants, and 
a secluded lake below the garden, in which hundreds of wild 
ducks swam and screamed unmolested, completed the outward 
features of C Court. 

" There are noble houses in England with a door commu- 
nicating from the dining-room to the stables, that the master 
and his friends may see their favorites, after dinner, without 
exposure to the weather. In the place of this rather bizarre 

luxury, the oak-pannelled and spacious dining-hall of C is 

on a level with the organ loft of the chapel, and when the 
cloth is removed, the large door between is thrown open, and 
the noble instrument pours the rich and thrilling music of 
vespers through the rooms. When the service is concluded, 
and the lights on the altar extinguished, the blind organist 
(an accomplished musician, and a tenant on the estate,) con- 
tinues his voluntaries in the dark untill the hall-door informs 
him of the retreat of the company to the drawing room. 
There is not only refinement and luxury in this beautiful, 
arrangement, but food for the soul and heart. 

" I chose my room from among the endless vacant but equally 
luxurious chambers of the rambling old house ; my preference 
solely directed by the portrait of a nun, one of the family in 
ages gone by — a picture full of melancholy beauty, which 
hung opposite the window. The face was distinguished by all 
that in England marks the gentlewoman of ancient and pure 



478 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



descent ; and while it was a woman with the more tender 
qualities of her sex breathing through her features, it was still 
a lofty and sainted sister, true to her cross, and sincere in 
her vows and seclusion. It was the work of a master, pro- 
bably Vandyke, and a picture in which the most solitary man 
would find company and communion. On the other walls, 
and in most of the other rooms and corridors, were distributed 
portaits of the gentlemen and soldiers of the family, most of 
them bearing some resemblance to the nun, but differing, as 
brothers in those wild times may be supposed to havediffered, 
from the gentle creatures of the same blood, nursed in the 
privacy of peace." 

Warwick Castle, Stratford-on-Avon, and Kenilworth, were 
all within the reach of what might be called neighborhood, 
and our hospitable host (in his eightieth year, and unable to 
accompany us,) had made the arrangements for our visit to 
these places. We were to be gone three days, but were to 
remain his guests in all respects. The carriage was packed 
with the books which might be needed for reference, the but- 
ler of the old Baronet was to go with us and provide post- 
horses and everything we could want at inns upon the road, 
and, under this kind and luxurious provision, we took seat 
beside Miss Porter, and visited Kenilworth, Warwick, and 
Stratford, with no thought or care which need divide our 
pleasure in her society. From the description of this journey 
(given without mention of the above circumstances,) let us 
copy one more passage : — 

" I had wandered away from my companion, Miss Jane 



JANE PORTER. 479 



Porter, to climb up a secret staircase in the wall, rather too 
difficult of ascent for a female foot, and from my elevated 
position I caught an accidental view of that distinguished lady 
through the arch of a Gothic window, with a background of 
broken architecture and foliage — presenting, by chance, per. 
haps, the most fitting and admirable picture of the authoress 
of the " Scottish Chiefs," that a painter in his brightest hour 
could have fancied. Miss Porter, with her tall and striking 
figure, her noble face (said by Mr. Martin Shee to have ap- 
proached nearer in its youth to his beau ideal of the female 
features than any other, and still possessing the remains of 
uncommon beauty,) is at all times a person whom it would 
be difficult to see without a feeling of involuntary admiration. 
But standing, as I saw her at that moment, motionless and 
erect, in the morning dress, with dark feathers, which she has 
worn since the death of her beloved and gifted sister, her 
wrists folded across, her large and still beautiful eyes fixed 
on a distant object in the view, and her nobly-cast lineaments 
reposing in their usual calm and benevolent tranquility, while, 
around and above her, lay the material and breathed the spriti 
over which she had held the first great mastery — it was a 
tableau vivant which I was sorry to be alone to see. 

Was she thinking of the great mind that had evoked the 
spirits of the ruins she stood among — a mind in which (by 
Sir Walter's own confession) she had first bared the vein of 
romance which breathed so freely for the world's delight ? 
where the visious which sweep with such supernatural dis- 
tinctness and rapidity through the imagination of genius — vis- 
ion of which the millionth portion is probably scarcely com- 
municated to the world in a literary lifetime — were Elizabeth's 



480 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 

courtiers, Elizabeth's passions, secret hours, interviews with 
Leicester — were the imprisoned king's nights of loneliness 
and dread, his hopes, his indignant, but unheeded thoughts — 
were all the possible circumstances, real or imaginary, of which 
that proud castle might have been the scene, thronging in 
those few moments of revery through her fancy ? or was her 
heart busy with its kindly aifections, and had the beauty and 
interest of the scene but awakened a thought of one who was 
most wont to number with her the sands of those brighter 
hours. 

" Who shall say ? The very question would perhaps startle 
the thoughts beyond recall — so illusive are even the most 
angelic of the mind's unseen visitants ?" 

In another place we made the following memoranda of what 
we knew of her biography, etc. : — 

" Miss Porter was the daughter of a gallant English officer, 
who died, leaving a widow and four children, then very young, 
but three of them destined to remarkable fame, Sir Robert 
Ker Porter, Jane Porter, and Anna Maria Porter. Sir 
Robert, as is well known, was the celebrated historical painter, 
traveller in Persia, soldier, diplomatist, and author, lately 
deceased. He went to Russia with one of his great pictures 
when very young, married a wealthy Russian princess, and 
passed his subsequent years between the camp and diplomacy, 
honored and admired in every station and relation of his life. 
The two girls were playmates and neighbors of Walter Scott. 
Jane published her " Scottish Chiefs," at the age of eighteen, 
and became immediately the great literary wonder of her 



JANE PORTER. 48 1 



time. Her widowed mother, however, withdrew her immedi- 
ately from society to the seclusion of a country town, and she 
was little seen in the gay world of London before several of 
her works had become classics. Anna Maria, the second 
sister, commenced her admirable series of novels soon after 
the first celebrity of Jane's works, and they wrote and passed 
the brightest years of their life together in a cottage retreat. 
The two sisters were singularly beautiful. Sir Thomas Law- 
rence was an unsuccessful suitor to Anna Maria, and Jane 
w T as engaged to a young soldier who w r as killed in the Peninsula. 
She is a woman to have but one love in a lifetime. Her 
betrothed was killed when she w T as twenty years of age, and 
she has ever since worn mourning, and remained true to his 
memory. Jane is now the only survivor of the three ; her 
admirable mother and her sister having died some twelve or four- 
teen years ago, and Sir Eobert having died lately, while revisit- 
ing England after many years' diplomatic residence in Venez- 
uela. 

Miss Porter is now near seventy. She has suffered within 
the last two or three years from ill health, but she is still erect, 
graceful, and majestic in person and still possessed of admirable 
beauty of countenance. Her large dark eyes have a striking 
lambency of lustre, her smile inspires love in all who see her, 
and her habit of mind, up to the time we last saw her, 
(three or four years ago,) was that of reflecting the mood of 
others in conversation, thinking never of herself, and endeavor- 
ing only to make others shine, and all this with a tact, a play- 
fulness and simplicity, an occasional unconscious brilliancy 
and penetration, which have made her, up to seventy years 
of age, a most interesting, engaging, and lovely woman. Con- 
21 



482 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



sidering Ihe extent of her charm, over old and young, titled 
and humble, masters and servants, we sincerely think we never 
have seen a woman so beloved and so fascinating. She is the 
idol of many different circles of very high rank, and passes her 
time in yielding, month after month, to pressing invitations 
from the friends who love her. The dowager queen 
Adelaide is one of her warmest friends, the highest families 
of nobility contend for her as a resident guest, distinguished 
and noble foreigners pay court to her invariably on arriving 
in England, she has been ennobled by a decree of the king of 
Prussia, and with all this weight of honor on her head, you 
might pass weeks with her (ignorant of her history) without 
suspecting her to be more than the loveliest of women past 
their prime, and born but to grace a contented mediocrity of 
station." 

We know nothing more to the honor of the English 
nobility of this day, than that Jane Porter — such as she was 
— should have chosen and cherished the greater number of 
her friendships from among them. Utterly incapable of a 
servility or an obsequiousness as her gifted and lofty nature 
was always admitted to be. she still moved in the highest 
sphere of rank, with sympathies all expanded, and the imprint 
of congeniality, with all around her, stamped upon counten- 
ance and mien. Yet she had mingled, more or less, with all 
classes, and knew the world well. Had she found it neces- 
sary to sacrifice the slightest shadow of purity or indepen- 
dence to retain her position, or had she believed, or 
conjectured, that purer or simpler natures were to be found 
in the ranks below, she was not one to hesitate or compromise 



JANE TORTER. 493 



for an instant. But, with the intuitive perceptions of genius, 
and a disposition as open as the day, she chose this for her 
sphere, and lived in it as one who had no thought or need of 
managements, either to belong to, or to grace it. The class 
of society, in a country, with which simple and proud genius 
finds itself most at home, is its superior and true nobility; 
and. that England's circles of high rank are so preferred, and 
so honored and brightened, by spirits like Jane Porter, is, we 
think, the evidence that proves most for England's present 
civilization and glory. 



OLE BULL'S NIAGARA. 



(an hour before the performance.) 

Saddle, as, of course, we are, under any very striking 
event, we find ourselves bestridden, now and then, with a 
much wider occupancy than the plumb-line of a newspaper 
column. Ole Bull possesses us over our tea-table; he will 
possess us over our supper-table — his performance of Niagara 
equi-distant between the two. We must think of him and 
his violin for this coming hour. Let us take pen and ink into 
our confidence. 

The " origin of the harp" has been satisfactorily recorded. 
We shall not pretend to put forward a credible story of the 
origin of the violin / but we wish to name a circumstance in 
natural history. The house-cricket that chirps upon our hearth, 

[484] 



OLE BULL. 



485 



is well known as belonging to the genus Pneumora. Its in- 
sect size consists almost entirely of a pellucid abdomen, cross- 
ed with a number of transverse ridges. This, when inflated, 
resembles a bladder, and upon its tightened ridges the insect 
plays like a fiddler, by drawing its thin legs over them. The 
cricket is, in fact, a living violin ; and as a fiddler is " scarce 
himself" without his violin, we may call the cricket a stray 
portion of a fiddler. 

Ole Bull "is himself" with his violin before him — but with- 
out it, the commonest eye must remark that he is of the 
invariable build of the restless searchers after something lost 
— the build of enthusiasts — that is to say, chest enormous, 
and stomach, if anything^ rather wanting / The great musi- 
cian of Scripture, it will be remembered, expressed his mere 
mental affliction by calling out " My bowels ! my bowels !" 
and, after various experiments on twisted silk, smeared with 
the white of eggs, and on single threads of the silk-worm, 
passed through heated oil, the animal fibre of cat-gut has 
proved to be the only string that answers to the want of the 
musician. Without trying to reduce these natural phenom- 
ena to a theory (except by suggesting that Ole Bull may very 
properly take the cricket as an emblem of his instinctive pur- 
suit), we must yield to an ominous foreboding for this even- 
ing. The objection to cat gut as a musical string is its 
sensibility to moisture : and in a damp atmosphere it is next 
to impossible to keep it in tune. The string comes honestly 
enough by its sensitiveness (as any one will allow who has 
seen a cat cross a street after a shower) — but, if the cat of 
Ole Bull's violin had the least particle of imagination in her, 



486 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



can what is left of her be expected to discourse lovingly of 
her natural antipathy — a tvater-M\ ? 

But — before we draw on our gloves to go over to Palmo's 
— a serious word as what is to be attempted to-night. 

01 e Bull is a great creature. He is fitted, if ever mortal 
man was, to represent the attendant spirit in Milton, who 

" Well knew to still the wild woods when they roared 
And hush the moaning winds ;" 

but it seems to us that, without a printed programme, show- 
ing what he intends to express besides the mere sound of waters 
he is trusting far too rashly to the comprehension of his au- 
dience and their power of musical interpretation. He is to 
tell a story by music ! Will it be understood ? 

We remember being very much astonished, a year or two 
ago, at finding ourself able to read the thoughts of a lady of 
this city, as she expressed them in an admirable improvisation 
upon the piano. The delight we experienced in this surprise 
induced us to look into the extent to which musical meaning 
had been perfected in Europe. We found it recorded that 
a Mons. Sudre, a violinist of Paris, had once brought the ex- 
pression of his instrument to so nice a point that he " could 
convey information to a stranger in another room," and it is 
added that, upon the evidence thus given of the capability of 
music, it was proposed to the French government to educate 
military bands in the expression of orders and heroic encourage- 
ments in battle ! Hayden is criticised by a writer on music 
as having failed in attempting (in his great composition " The 
Seasons") to express ' ; the dawn of day," " the husbandman's 
satisfaction," "the rustling of leaves," "the running of a 



OLE BULL. 4Q7 



brook,'' " the coming on of winter," "thick fogs," etc., etc. 
The same writer laughs at a commentator on Mozart, who, 
by a " second violin quartette in D minor," imagines himself 
informed how a loving female felt on being abandoned, and 
thought the music fully expressed that it was Dido ! Beeth- 
oven undertook to convey distinct pictures in his famous 
Pastoral Symphony, but it was thought at the time that no 
one would have distinguished between his musical sensa- 
tions on visiting the country and his musical sensations while 
sitting beside a river — unless previously told what was com- 
ing ! 

Still, Ole Bull is of a primary order of genius, and he is not 
to wait upon precedent. He has come to our country, an in- 
spired wanderer from a far away shore, and our greatest 
scenic feature has called on him for an expression of its won- 
ders in music. He may be inspired, however, and we, who 
listen, still be disappointed. He may not have felt Niagara 
as we did. He may have been subdued where a meaner spirit 
would be aroused — as 

" Fools rush in where angels fear to tread." 
(Seven o'clock, and time to go.) 



(after the performance.) 

We believe that we have heard a transfusion into music — 
not of " Niagara," which the audience seemed bona-fide to 
expect, but — of the pulses of the human heart at Niagara. 
We had a prophetic boding of the result of calling the piece 
vaguely " Niagara" — the listener furnished with no u argu- 



488 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



merit," as a guide through the wilderness of " treatment" to 
which the subject was open. This mistake allowed, however, 
it must be said that Ole Bull has, genius-like, refused to mis- 
interpret the voice within him — refused to play the charlatan, 
and " bring the house down"- — as he might ivell have done by 
any kind of " uttermost^ from the drums and trumpets of the or- 
chestra. 

The emotion at Niagara is all but mute. It is a u small, 
still voice" that replies within us to the thunder of waters. 
The musical mission of the Norwegian was to represent the 
insensate element as it ivas to him — to a human soul, stirred 
in its seldom-reached depths by tho call of power. It was 
the answer to Niagara that he endeavored to render in music 
— not the call! We defer attempting to read further, or 
rightly, this musical composition till we have heard it again. 
It was received by a crowded audience, in breathless silence, 
but with no applause. 



DR. LARDNER'S LECTURE. 



We did not chance to hear Dr. Lardner's excellent and 
amusing lecture on the " London literati" etc., but the re- 
port of it in the " Republic" has scraped the moss from one 
corner of our memory, and we may, perhaps, aid in the true 
portraiture of one or two distinguished men by showing a 
shade or two in which our observation of them differed from 
that of the Doctor. We may remark here, that Dr. Lardner 
has been conversant with all the wits and scholars of Eng- 
land for the last two or three lustrums, and we would suggest 
to him that, with the freedom given him by withdrawal from 
their sphere, he might give us a book of anecdotical biogra- 
phy that would have a prosperous sale and be both instruc- 
tive and amusing. We shall not poach upon the doctor's 
21* [489 J 



490 FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLACES. 



manor, by the way, if we give our impression of one of these 
literati — himself — as he appeared to us, once in very distin- 
guished company, in Engand. We were in a ball in the 
height of the season, at Brighton. Somewhere about the 
later hours, we chanced to be in attendance upon a noble lady, 
in company with two celebrated men. Mr. Ricardo and 
Horace Smith (the author of Brambletye House, and Rejected 
Addresses), Lady Stepney, authoress of the " New Road to 
Ruin," approached our charming centre of attraction with a 
proposition to present to her the celebrated Dr, Lardner. 
" Yes, my dear ! I should like to know him of all things !" 
was the reply, and the doctor w T as conjured forthwith into a 
magic circle. He bowed " with spectacles on nose," but no 
other extraneous mark of philosopher or scholar. "We shall 
not offend the doctor by stating that, on this evening, he was 
a very different looking person from his present practical ex- 
terior. With showy waistcoat, black tights, fancy stockings 
and small patent-leather shoes, he appeared to us an elegant 
of very bright water, smacking not at all, in manner no more 
than in dress, of the smutch and toil of the laboratory. We 
looked at and listened to him, we remember, with great inter- 
est and curiosity. He left us to dance a quadrille, and finding 
ourself accidentally in the same set, we looked at his ornamen 
tal and lover-like acquittal of himself with a kind of wonder at 
what Minerva would say ! This was just before the doctor 
left England. We may add our expression of pleasure that 
the Protean facility of our accomplished and learned friend 
has served him in this country — making of him the best lec- 
turer on all subjects, and the carver out of prosperity under 
a wholly new meridian. 



DR. LARDNER. 49^ 



But, to revert to the report of the Lecture : — 
" The doctor gave some very amusing descriptions of the 
personal peculiarities of Buhver and D'Israeli, the author of 
1 Coningsby,' observing that those who have read the works 
of the former, would naturally conclude him to be very fasci- 
nating in private society. Such, however, was not the case. 
He had not a particle of conversational facility, and could not 
utter twelve sentences free from hesitation and embarrassment. 
In fact, Bulwer was only Bulwer when his pen was in his hand 
and his meerschaum in his mouth. He is intimate with Count 
D'Orsay, one of the handsomest men of the day, and in his 
excessive admiration of that gentleman has adopted his style 
of dress, which is adapted admirably to the figure of the se- 
cond Beau Brummell, but sits strangely on the feeble, rickety 
and skeleton form, of the man of genius." 

Now it struck us, on the contrary, that there was no more 
playful, animated, facile creature in London societ} 7- than Bul- 
wer. He seemed to have a horror of stilted topics, it is true, 
and never mingled in general conversation unless merrily. 
But at Lady Blessington's, where there was but one woman 
present (herself), and where, consequently, there could be no 
tetes-a-tetes, Bulwer 's entrance was the certain precursor of 
fun. He was a brilliant rattle, and as to any " hesitation and 
embarrassment," we never saw a symptom of it. At evening 
parties in other houses, Bulwer's powers of conversation could 
scarce be fairly judged, for his system of attention is very 
concentrative, and he was generally deep in conversation with 
some one beautiful woman whom he could engross. We dif- 
fer from the doctor, too, as to his style of dandyism. Sprea- 
dy upper works, trousers closely fitting to the leg, a broad- 



492 



FAMOUS PERSONS AND PLAGES. 



brimmed hat, and cornucopial whiskers, distinguished D'Or- 
say, while Bulwer wore always the loose French pantaloon, a 
measurable hat-brim, and whiskers carefully limited to the 
cheek. We pronounced the doctor's astrology (as to the 
stars) based upon an error in " observation." 

The reporter adds : — 

" D'Israeli he described as an affected coxcomb, with a 
restless desire to appear witty ; yet he never remembered him 
to have said a good thing in his life except one, and that was 
generally repeated with the preface, ' D'Israeli has said a 
good thing at last.' " 

That D'Israeli is not a " bon-mot" man, is doubtless true. 
It never struck us that he manifested a " desire to appear 
witty." He is very silent in the general melee of conversation, 
but we have never yet seen him leave a room before he had 
made an impression by some burst in the way of monologue — 
either an eloquent description or a dashing new absurdity, 
an anecdote or a criticism. He sits indolently with his head 
on his breast, taking sight through his eyebrows till he finds 
his cue to break in, and as far as our observation goes, nobody 
was ever willing to interrupt him. The doctor calls him an 
" affected coxcomb," but it is only of his dress that this is 
any way true. No schoolboy is more frank in his manners. 
When we were first in London, he was the immortal tenant 
of one room and a recess, and with manners indolently pensive. 
Three years after, returning to England, we found him master 
of a lordly establishment on Hyde Park, and, except that he 
looked of a less lively melancholy, his manners were as un- 
troubled with affectation as before. ^ 

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